


you're putting up your armor when you leave and you leave because you're certain of who you want to be

by lovelypenguins1717



Category: Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Lewis (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake Marriage, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Idiots in Love, Let's Talk About Feelings!, Love Confessions, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:47:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24474514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelypenguins1717/pseuds/lovelypenguins1717
Summary: “You guys fight like an old married couple,” Innocent had said casually.A tricky murder case needs a married couple to go to therapy. James Hathaway and Robert Lewis happen to be the perfect coppers for the job. What could possibly go wrong?fake marriage, shakespeare references out the ying yang, allusions to greek myth, and talking about feelings (eventually).(updated every day, probably)
Relationships: James Hathaway/Robert Lewis
Comments: 67
Kudos: 122





	1. partners in crime in the dead of night

**Author's Note:**

> title from Bastille's Icarus
> 
> idea inspired by tablelamp's "Overwhelmed"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from Bastille's "Nocturnal Creatures"*

“You guys fight like an old married couple,” Innocent had said casually. 

Robbie had thought nothing of it at the time. Just one of those comments that got thrown around the break room. He’d heard it all before, even before Hathaway. 

But now, as he sat in Innocent’s office, staring at her like she had three heads, he wondered if the comment last week had been intentional. 

No, there was no way she could know that someone would be brutally murdered at the Livingston Marriage Retreat. Not unless she was psychic, and despite how brilliant she was, clairvoyance was not a gift she possessed. 

“You want us to what exactly?” Hathaway asked, his voice surprisingly calm considering what Innocent had just proposed. 

Her brow quirked. “Dr. Caroline Livingston is very particular about who she lets into the Retreat. Even though Liam Harrison was a part of the group therapy, she will not look kindly on police presence. Especially when he was found in Oxford and not on the retreat grounds.” Innocent laced her fingers in front of her and Robbie knew from the glint in her eye that they were not going to get away from this. That she would not be convinced otherwise. 

“So, we’re supposed to go undercover, pretend to be married, and what, solve the murder?” Robbie asked, leaning forward a bit in his chair. “Doesn’t that seem a bit...extreme, ma’am?” 

Innocent sighed. “Yes, but Liam Harrison is a high profile body. It is best if his murder is solved discreetly and quickly. You both will liaison with the team here as they do the usual groundwork.” 

And that was that. 

Robbie glanced at James out of the corner of his eye. His Sergeant’s cheekbones were pink and he didn’t look particularly pleased. “Of course, ma’am,” was all that Hathaway said and they both stood up. 

Innocent nodded. It was decided. “I had a cover whipped up for both of you. It’ll be on your desks in an hour.” And she turned back to her computer and it was done. 

Robbie glanced at Hathaway. “Oh, don’t even.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Hathaway said as he stepped out into the hallway. “Husband,” he murmured under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

This was going to be quite the investigation. 

\- - -

An hour later, a smirking DC dropped their files off. 

“It appears I’ll be taking your name, sir,” Hathaway mused, his finger tracing around the rim of his coffee cup as he flicked through the file faster than any normal human should be able to read. 

“Well, I am the senior officer,” Robbie said, hoping that he wasn’t blushing as much as he felt he was. “You should also probably drop the ‘sir’ and just stick with Robbie.” 

“Don’t want the other group therapy members to think we’re kinky?” James’s face was a picture of perfect innocence. Robbie swallowed hard and wondered how the hell was supposed to respond to that. James’s brow lifted as he waited for a response, but after another beat of silence, the trace of James’s signature smirk returned and he looked back down at the file. 

All traces of amusement slipped from Hathaway’s expression as his phone rang and he answered it. “Yes. Ah, I see. Thank you very much, cheers, bye.” 

“What was that?” Robbie asked, now with an excuse to close the file and hopefully focus on something other than prep for being “married” to Hathaway. 

“Toxicology, apparently Harrison had been given an extremely high dose of LSD before he died.”

“LSD?” Robbie asked, leaning back in his chair. “Why would someone drug him with LSD?” 

“I hope we aren’t getting into something with hallucinogenic sex rituals,” Hathaway said dryly.

Robbie snorted. “What makes you think they’d use LSD as a sex ritual, Hathaway?” 

“I don’t know, sir, you were the one who lived through the drug-raging seventies.” Hathaway’s blue eyes never left Robbie’s and he was smirking again. 

“And what about using drugs to brainwash people into religious fanaticism?” 

“Possible, sir. But we are going to a couple’s therapy retreat, not a monastery.” 

Robbie, for once, wished he was. 

\- - - 

“Pint, James?” Lewis asked after they’d finished off all the remaining paperwork and were heading out in the blustery winter night. James popped the collar of his black coat up against his cheeks. He had the file that outlined their cover pinned tight under his arm and he was appalled at how lacking it was. Shouldn’t they have gotten intense backgrounds? A story to stick to? Rather it was more about Dr. Caroline Livingston and her style of therapy. 

James did not do therapy. 

“Of course,” James said, fumbling to light his cigarette as they walked through the car park. “Is this going to be a problem?” James asked suddenly, blowing the smoke out of the corner of his mouth. Within moments the nicotine soothed the ball of anxiety that had been working its way into a tight knot in his chest since Innocent had proposed the undercover scheme. 

Lewis glanced at him and shook his head. “Nah, as long as you do it out the window and brush your teeth before bed, I don’t care.” 

James nodded. That was easy enough. The sharing of the bed, that would be an entirely different scenario, but he quickly brushed the thought aside. He had certainly had plenty of practice keeping those kinds of thoughts pushed to the side. 

He glanced up at the sky as he took another long drag. The sky was bruised purple, the sun had set long ago and the clouds were starting to gather, hulking on the horizon and promising a storm later that night. The cold chill brushed against his cheeks, burning the tips of his ears. He wished it would’ve been warmer. Then they might’ve been able to walk down to the pub, through the ancient Oxford streets, side by side so they didn’t hog up the entire road. Elbows knocking, shoulders bumping together, and even though James hated the way it made his heart flutter, their hips would brush against each other. 

It was the fact that it was so casual, coincidental touching, that made it okay. Any other time Lewis touched him, even if it was just a hand on his shoulder, he flinched internally away from it. It bordered too close to real intimacy, even if it was casual. Perhaps the fact that Lewis didn’t even think about it made James uncomfortable. He didn’t even realize…

“Hey, Hathaway?” James blinked, realizing he had been a million miles away. He had nearly stumbled into his car. “You alright, mate?” 

“Yeah, just thinking.” James pulled his keys from his pocket. “See you at the pub?” 

And he tried to ignore the concern in Lewis’s eyes. 

It meant nothing. This would mean nothing. 

\- - -

The pub was blessedly warm and not too crowded, beyond the usual bunch of hooligans that enjoyed the Arms on a Monday evening. Robbie had left James to take another quick smoke outside. He grabbed them two pints and slid into their favorite table by the fire. He shrugged off his winter jacket and stretched backward, his shoulders aching and a familiar pain in his lower back that was just normal at this point in his life. 

The door of the pub swung open and James stepped inside, taking a second to flatten the collar of his coat before making his way over to Robbie. With a heavy sigh, he slid into his usual seat across from Robbie, his expression, as always, unreadable. He didn't reach out and take the pint yet, just flexed the fingers of his left hand. 

“Sir?” James said after a beat of silence. 

“Robbie.” 

James looked up from under his lashes at Robbie, such an incredulous look on his face. With a small shake of his head, he restarted. “Robert?” Robbie, despite the coiling feeling in his stomach, smiled and tilted his head at James. “What should we do about rings?” 

Robbie paused, trying not to feel like he’d just been punched in the stomach. He looked down at his left hand still curled around the pint glass. His gold wedding band gleamed in the firelight and he thought about Val. Most of the time, it didn’t hurt nearly as much to think about Val, the sting of fresh grief didn’t cut straight through him like it used to. The twisted knot of anger and hurt that had only grown since Val’s death had been smoothed over time, but at the mention of rings, it suddenly became real that he was going to be “married”, again, even if it was theoretical. And it hurt more than he thought it would. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up,” James said, retreating back, a thread of guilt in his voice. 

Robbie shook his head. “No, no. You bring up a good point. I certainly can’t wear this without you wearing one.” He turned his hand over and stared down at it. “We could just not wear them.” 

“I’m not entirely sure that’s a good idea. We’re meant to be quite believable so that we can properly infiltrate. I think rings would make it more believable,” James said, taking a sip of the pint. 

“It’s a marriage therapy place, not an actual spy mission,” Robbie said, but he knew he was being unreasonable. He couldn’t properly explain why he felt weird about wearing Val’s ring when he was “married” to someone else, regardless of the fact that it was fake. “But, I suppose you’re right. We should get rings, I can pop around the jewelers tomorrow before we head off.” 

James blinked. “We?” 

Robbie looked up at James, there was a cautiousness to the way James had said it. Like he hadn’t been expecting it like he didn’t understand. “I’ll wear both, can’t imagine really parting with this, even for a bit.” 

And James nodded. No more words were needed, he seemed to intrinsically understand and for that, Robbie was grateful. “Are you definitely okay with this? It’s just-.” Robbie paused, waving his hand in a semi-circle, gesturing to all of the things that they have never unpacked. 

“It’s to catch a killer. We work best together, so I don’t see what the problem is.” And with that James seemed to be completely comfortable with it. Robbie ignored the sinking feeling in his chest. 

“Besides the fact that we’re two male coppers about to be married and going through serious therapy if the file is to be believed,” Robbie said with raised eyebrows and James smirked. 

Robbie thought about what James had said once, back in the car on possibly one of the worst cases he’d ever worked on. _“What, that there’s boys and girls and a nice, neat straight line down the middle? And gay is if you like shoes and musicals, and straight is if you read Loaded and eat Yorkie bars?”_ He had never really known how to broach the subject again and in usual Hathaway fashion, he had completely avoided the question, leaving little room for Robbie to question again.

“Are you uncomfortable with it, sir?” James asked. 

Robbie shook his head. “No, of course not.” James was right. This was for a case. 

That would have to be enough. 

\- - -

About an hour and a half later they’d worked through what exactly their story was going to be. James was going to be a reclusive writer and studier of classical literature working in a library outside of Oxford. A fairly innocuous job that he could bullshit his way through and he doubted that any of the other members of the group would do a thorough background check on him. Innocent had given Robbie a job at a local moving company as a manager. She knew the people who owned it, so it had been fairly easy to work Robbie into the system as cover. The main concern had been Caroline Livingston digging into their fake lives and seeing inconsistencies when it came to their work and as far as money was concerned. The Livingston Marriage retreat was definitely not cheap. 

There had been a list of primer questions for them to figure out on their own. 

“Where did we meet?” James asked, nearly done with his second pint and all of the tension completely eased out of his body. He’d shrugged his coat off and loosened his tie, the warmth from the fire and alcohol bringing ease to such a strange conversation. 

“The library?” Robbie asked and James frowned. “What, don’t like the idea of romance among the stacks?” 

James wrinkled his nose and chuckled. “Do you really think a moving company manager would want to go to the library to pick up a young librarian?”

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t everyone go to the library with the idea of picking up the librarian?” 

James snorted. “Fine, but I think it should’ve been a long courtship, considering we already decided we’ve only been married for three years.” James flipped back through his notes. He bit the inside of his cheek. Long courtship and mutual pining, not dissimilar to how this was starting to feel, but the difference was that Robbie did not like him like that. 

“Alright then. Any other things we should cover?” Robbie asked. James could hear another question underneath the fairly vague question. 

James sidestepped it. “Like?” He looked up, trying to convey innocence and curiosity. He didn’t know how to navigate what Robbie might’ve been trying to ask. 

“Well, apparently Dr. Livingston’s approach to therapy is quite intense and could get deep fast. I am unsure of how we should navigate that, seeing as we aren’t actually partners and we both lead separate private lives.” There was a kindness to Robbie’s eyes, a softness that he got when speaking to a spooked witness or a grieving widow. 

James knew he had to be referring to his own past. Will, Crevecoeur Hall, his father, the seminary. James blinked and his chest tightened. But he could also mean Val, his relationship with Morse, with Laura, a number of other things that they never went into. He took a deep breath and looked up at Robbie, who was patiently waiting for an answer. 

“No.” He decided, keeping his voice light and even, but there was a slight tremble to it, impossible to ignore, but Robbie did anyway. “How about you?” James asked, leaning back and finishing off the pint. 

“I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?” Robbie said. James’s stomach sank, it seemed like a challenge, even though the tone of the entire conversation was bordering on light and airy. There was tension coiled under the surface, ready to implode at a moment. For years James had managed to keep it buried deep. There were times where it floated to the surface. Drunken nights, the hospital, the near-death experiences. 

But normalcy always won out and snapped the lid on the processing of trauma. 

James took in a deep breath, wishing it was at least warm so they could be outside and he could pull out a cigarette. All of a sudden, his chest constricted and he swallowed sharply. 

How did they get roped into this?


	2. i feel my pulse quickening, but i wouldn't change a thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from Bastille's "Joy"*

A week at most. That was how long this undercover “operation” was supposed to last. Still, James packed enough to last him longer than that. The Retreat was technically still going on for another month. James took a deep breath, wondering if he could manage to last a month being fake married to Robbie. 

Regardless, he grabbed an extra book and tossed it into his backpack for good measure. 

With his suitcase, backpack, and guitar sitting by the door an hour before Lewis was meant to be picking him, James pulled out a cigarette and let it dangle between his teeth. He could still try to back out of this. Get someone else to take his place. 

No, he’d run away before and several years later it came and choked him by the throat. 

_“Feardorcha, well Zoe, Will, Jonjo, Scarlett, Paul.”_ Old names and old people who knew more about him than Lewis did. Old people who were either dead, murderers, or accomplices, or some combination. James dug his lighter out of his jacket pocket and lit the cigarette. He slumped back on the couch, tilting his head back. The file on Livingston still sat open beside him. Several hours of reading over it until his eyes hurt and then only a few hours of restless sleep which led to early morning packing. 

And now the time seemed to slide by at a snail’s pace. The clock ticked along at half speed. By now he would’ve been in the nick, flipping through papers and then getting ready to hit the trail when Lewis rolled in at 8:30. Instead, he was stuck with himself. Dressed casually with his favorite books tucked carefully away. 

Another puff. 

His brain drifted, eyes staring unfocused up at the ceiling. What would happen if Dr. Livingston completely broke him? How would he manage to stay focused if at every angle she was trying to dig up his trauma and get him to become closer with Robbie? How was he meant to do his fucking job if every time he blinked he saw Will’s face. Saw his jaw lolling open and the glassy look to the once lively eyes saw the splatter of blood and gore. 

Bile rose to his throat. 

_“No! Just – no, go away, I don’t want to see you.”_

James closed his eyes. He had been sure that Lewis had hated him. Maybe he had. But he’d saved his life and James hadn’t been strong enough to open his mouth and question what the hell they were supposed to do. How was James meant to forgive himself? 

Another drag. 

Fuck. 

A knock on the door startled James and he shot up, blinking the prickling feeling behind his eyes away. “Just a sec!” He called, stubbing the barely-there remains of his cig into the ashtray that was overflowing by now. He took a deep breath, swallowed whatever remaining feelings that had welled to the surface, and headed to the door. 

“Good morning, sir,” James said as he swung the door open and Robbie stood there dressed in that atrocious blue shirt with the yellowy palm trees or whatever the hell the beachy pattern was. It was underneath a warm looking navy sweater, but the collar was popped up over the neckline. “Do you not own any other shirts?” He asked, giving the offending collar a once over. 

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Hope you don’t mind I’m early. I was hoping for a cup of coffee before we head off, mine broke yesterday and I haven’t had time to get a new one.” 

James stepped back and gestured for him to come inside. Robbie sidestepped the luggage and his shoulder brushed against James’s chest. Warm flutters stirred in his stomach. James swallowed. He was going to have to keep himself in check, they were going to have to be more than just randomly physically affectionate at the Retreat and if an accidental touch was already making his stomach turn to butterflies, this week was not going to go well. 

“Help yourself,” James said as Robbie ventured further into his apartment. He’d been here before, but never so early in the morning. 

Robbie headed into the kitchen and already knew where the mugs were. “You need more?” He asked, holding up the pot. 

James shook his head. “Already had most of a pot myself, I’m good for now.” James slumped back down onto the couch as Robbie opened almost every cupboard in an attempt to find the sugar. “Third door to the right of the microwave.” 

“Yes, thank you, I got it,” Robbie said, spooning six sugars into his mug and stirring. He wandered over to the love seat and eased himself into it. “How was your night?” He asked as he blew on the coffee to cool it. 

“Half the night I waste in sighs. In a wakeful doze I sorrow,” James said, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table again. It wasn’t the best position for his back, but he found that it allowed him to look like a lounging cat, so he went with it. 

Robbie sipped his coffee. “Keats?” He guessed. 

“Close. Tennyson.” 

“Ah, old Alfred,” Robbie said as if he was a close friend of theirs. He might as well have been. One of the fanboys for the Romantic poets, or ‘boys in the band’, as James had said once.

“Do you like living in Oxford, James?” Robbie asked suddenly. 

“It isn’t Cambridge,” James responded dryly. 

“Cheeky sod,” Robbie muttered and they lapsed into a comfortable silence. After several moments of quiet contemplation, Robbie seemed to have noticed the still open file on the coffee table. “Learn anything new by reading it for the thousandth time?” 

James let his gaze drift down to the folder. It was a weight between them and they stood poised on the edge of a tightrope. By the time they got to the Retreat, they would be closer than they ever had before. And after…well, they might have gone tumbling into the abyss, beyond any return to normalcy. 

“According to her website,” James lightly toed his closed laptop. “There are both group sessions, couple sessions, and individual sessions. And several testimonials proclaim that tears should be expected. ‘A hardcore overhaul for couples who have drifted away and wish to find their way back to the light’,” he quoted. 

Robbie snorted. “You already know how I feel about therapy,” he muttered darkly into his coffee mug. 

_“And I don’t deserve it,”_ James thought but didn’t dare to say out loud. 

“Well, I think we should be off, don’t you? Especially if we want to hit the jewelers on the way out of town.” Robbie rose to his feet with a deep grunt. They were quite common these days, especially when his back hurt. Which seemed to be all the time. 

“Oh, right, yes.” James stood and checked his pockets again for his phone, lighter, and pack of cigs. He had forgotten about the rings. Completely. He swallowed and ignored the way his chest contracted. 

\- - -

Barrow’s Jewelers was on the way out of town. “I’ll get them, you stay here,” Robbie said, leaving his car engine idling. James just shrugged and stepped out of the car to take a quick smoke before they got on the road. 

He hustled into the shop and was greeted by a slender woman with more rings on her fingers than should’ve been humanly possible. “Good morning, sir! You’re in bright and early,” she said with a beaming smile. Her white hair was coiffed and curled the way his Nan used to. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’m in a bit of rush actually, I’m just looking for two bands. Simple, nothing too fancy and I need them now. Preferably not too costly either.” 

The woman, her name tag declaring her to be Margie, winked. “Trying to get somewhere in a hurry?” She asked with a knowing smile. 

“Ah, sort of. A, ah, a friend of mine is getting married today. Spur of the moment thing, elopement,” he stammered through, cogs in his brain turning. 

Margie nodded serenely. “I see, come this way.” And she guided him over to a row of clear cases that held dozens of various metal bands in plush velvet rows. Robbie hoped his lie had been convincing enough. Not that it really mattered. Within fifteen minutes he’d be gone and he would never come back to Barrow’s Jewelers ever again. 

“You aren’t the first man in a hurry for a ring.” Margie gently slid the glass away from the case and plucked two pretty rings from the velvet. “I had a bloke in here the other day, in quite a rush. Handsome man, very rich.” 

The detective in Robbie perked up. Could it have been Liam Harrison? 

He had never wanted to whip out the photo of Harrison from his coat pocket and show it to her along with his warrant card. Instead, he hummed. “A lot of younger folk like to get married quickly. All the rage, I hear.” 

“I know, but he was a bit older. An Oxford don!” Margie smiled and held out the ring to Robbie, swiftly moving on from the description of her most recent customer. An Oxford don? So not Liam Harrison. 

“How about this one? It’s tungsten, so only 24 quid, but looks like platinum.” She dropped it into his palm and he ran his thumb across it. Cool and smooth, a couple of millimeters wide. “Perfect,” he said and told her his size. He was about to ask about James’s size, his fingers were longer and slimmer, he’d need several sizes down. 

“What does that one say?” He asked suddenly, as one two rows down from the tungsten ones caught his eye. 

Margie smiled and plucked it from the case, holding it out in her palm. “Never doubt I love,” she said, her eyes gleaming and a triumphant smile on her face. “It’s a quote from Hamlet, sir. _Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love._ ” 

Robbie couldn’t help but smile. 

“I’ll take it.” 

\- - -

Robbie slid back into the car with a tiny plastic bag on his finger. He held it out to James. He took it and pulled out the two paper bags that held their rings. For the twenty minutes Robbie was picking out rings, James had anxiously smoked a cigarette and maintained enough control to not hurriedly drain another one. 

Now, his mouth was dry and he swallowed harshly. He dumped one of the paper bags out onto his palm and a glossy tungsten ring fell out onto his palm. “That one is mine, yours is the other one.” 

James handed it over, ignoring how his fingertips brushed against Robbie’s palm as he dropped it. 

The second ring slid onto his palm and he blinked. There was something scribed on the metal? 

His heart fell all the way to his stomach as he read the words. He said nothing, he couldn’t. The entire world stopped revolving. Every single word he’d ever learned went flying from his head. The world was standing still, all narrowed down on the four words etched in looping script into the band. 

“Never doubt I love.”

“Shakespeare,” Robbie said, but he sounded far away and underwater. 

James knew the line. Hamlet. Written in a letter to Ophelia, read aloud by her father to his mother. It was used as evidence for Hamlet’s madness after Ophelia rejected him. “Very fitting, sir,” James found himself staying, still looking down at the little band on his palm. It suddenly felt very heavy. 

“I thought so, too.” Robbie sounded quite proud of himself as he started up the car and pulled out into the street. 

James slid the ring onto his left hand and tried not to feel like it was burning the flesh there. 

\- - -

The countryside this time of year was barren and altogether not that interesting to look at. Even so, James seemed to be very keen to look at it, long and hard, like he was trying to get a confession from the rolling hills of tan and the slate-gray sky. 

Robbie probably shouldn’t be complaining. The quiet gave him time to think, but the farther along they got, the more a pit grew in the bottom of his stomach. What were they doing, really? How could this even be remotely okay? 

He looked down at the tungsten band that was nestled above Val’s gold one. His thumb ran across both of them, feeling them together. What would’ve Val said about this? 

No, he couldn’t think that. 

He wouldn’t feel like this if Val was here. It wouldn’t matter because he would have the love of his life. She would’ve laughed, would’ve teased them mercilessly about it, she would’ve pressed a kiss to James’s cheek and ruffled his hair the way she always had done to her son. 

Robbie switched hands so that his left hand was on the wheel and his right was resting on the door. “Should we go over some of the questions, again?” Robbie asked, sick of sitting with his thoughts. 

James looked up and gave a nonchalant shrug. “We can, yes.” He reached back, turning in his seat to shuffle through his backpack. Robbie glanced over, eyes off the road for just a second, and he saw the edge of James’s sweatshirt ride up, showing off just a sliver of skin above the waistband of his jeans and near his left hip. 

He swallowed and looked away quickly. 

“Are you sure we need to be this rehearsed, sir?” James said as he straightened and flipped the folder open in his lap. 

“James, we’re an hour away, please stop with the sir, already.” 

James raised his eyebrows and in the most sardonic manner said, “I thought we decided it was kinky?” 

At this point, despite how it made Robbie’s heart flip flop, he just sighed, mostly mocking frustration. “We most definitely did not decide that.” 

“Suit yourself,” James said, flipping up one of the papers. “What is my favorite color?” 

“Green. Next question.” 

“No.” 

Robbie could feel James’s eyes boring into him and he risked a glance. “Do you really think they’re going to sense we aren’t a real couple because I don’t know what your favorite color is?” 

This was going to become tedious quick. 

“I think we should more worry about the possible lack of physical affection and the fact that we haven’t actually gone over any of the serious questions because we both find them unbearably uncomfortable,” James somehow said in one breath, without even looking up from where he scanned the papers. 

“Serious questions like what?” Robbie challenged, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, annoyed and huffy. He did _not_ want to address the physical affection. 

“Describe your last relationship and how it is different from the current one.” 

“Easy, you are a man and Val was a woman.” 

“Elaborate.” 

“What the bloody hell am I supposed to elaborate on. I assume you have, well, certain parts, and she,” Robbie stuttered to a halt. He wanted to slam on the break so hard he would smack his head in the steering wheel and he wouldn’t have to do this. “I’m not going to continue that crude joke.” 

“Good,” James said quietly. When Robbie looked over, James’s jaw was clenched, his shoulder tense, and his eyes boring holes into the paper he had probably memorized about five minutes after getting it. 

“I’m sorry. That was poor taste to both you and Val,” he said, glancing up, wondering if she was shaking her head at him. Wherever she was. “I’m just anxious, is all.” 

“We’re in this together, sir,” James said and Robbie glanced over at him, a fraction longer than he maybe should have, considering he was driving the car. But he couldn’t look away from James’s surprisingly soft look. 

“Thank god, I couldn’t imagine doing this with Petersen.” 

“I can’t either, sir. You guys would not make a believable couple.” 

Robbie felt the sting of indignation. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“He’s a complete meathead. You, sir, are far too handsome to end up with someone like him. Me, on the other hand, as the pinnacle of Western beauty, we are physically perfect for each other.” Despite the heavy dripping of sarcasm, there was a strange compliment in his slightly backhanded words. 

Robbie wondered if he imagined it, but the sarcasm only layered on thick when James was talking about himself. “What about you? Er, your last relationship compared to this theoretical one.” 

“Not much to tell. You understand me better than they did, theoretically romantically involved or otherwise.” 

Robbie’s brows raised. He hadn’t been expecting such a real and serious answer. “Really?” 

“Yes, Robert.”

“Well, I mean, I guess that makes sense. Most married couples are each other's best friends, right? And we’re actually friends, so maybe I shouldn’t worry,” Robbie said, feeling a bit more at ease. 

“Was Val your best friend?” James asked, his voice suddenly very soft as if he was afraid he might spook Robbie into crashing the car. 

There was that familiar cramp in his heart again. The spasm of guilt and grief that mingled with the sweet memories he still cherished of Val. “Yes. Yes, she was.” 

The moment of silence lapsed longer than Robbie wanted it to. He wanted James to say something, anything. But he didn’t. Didn’t even move. Robbie didn’t even know if he was breathing. 

“Anyway,” Robbie cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. His back was aching from being in the car for so long. “Are you going to direct me or am I just meant to drive down this bloody road until we reach the end of the Earth?”


	3. oh, what would your mother say if she could hear what we talk about?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from Bastille's "The Waves"*  
> can you tell I really love Bastille?
> 
> Enjoy! <3

The long gravel path that led up to the Livingston facilities was like they were traveling into Hell but without the help of a long-dead Roman poet. 

James slid the folder closed and twisted around to push it haphazardly back into his backpack, latching it closed and leaning back. “Here we go,” James muttered softly to himself, glancing down at the ring on his finger. Robbie slowed the car to a stop at the gate and rolled down the window, jabbing his finger at the button. 

“Security seems tight for a counseling retreat, don’t you think?” Robbie asked as they waited for a response from the security box. 

“Obviously not tight enough if Liam Harrison got off the premises without anyone noticing and was found dead two hours away in Oxford,” James said, tapping his fingers against his lips. 

“Fair enough,” Robbie said. 

A voice crackled over the speaker. “Identification?” 

“Robert and James Lewis, here to, ah, check into the Retreat?” 

“Can you show one of your driving licenses to the camera above the speaker?” 

James was faster on his wallet, but Robbie shook his head slowly. 

“Yours doesn’t have my last name on it,” Robbie said as he pulled out his I.D. and held it up to the camera. 

James slipped his wallet back into his pocket. Good call. It would’ve been hard to play it off since they’d been “married” for three years. 

Slowly the gates creaked open and Robbie tossed his I.D. into the cup holder. He pulled slowly up the hill and around the corner to the large sprawling estate. It was like any other manor in England, distinctly highbrow and manicured beyond what any normal person could possibly think was healthy. 

James’s jaw clenched. They all looked the same, like Crevecoeur Hall, and it made him sick. 

Robbie pulled into a spot close to the entrance and let the engine idle. “We can still run, y’know. If you want,” Robbie said, looking over at James. 

He was sincere, despite all his grumblings and mutterings about how much he hated what they had to do, Robbie would do it. And he would do it well. Nothing would cloud his judgment as it would possibly ruin James’s. But he would give it up and Robbie would take a tongue lashing from Innocent is James wanted him too. 

“I don’t think that’s true, Robert,” James said, as he saw the doors open and three people stride out of the hall. 

Leading them was a prim and proper woman, tall in her heels and dressed rather smart despite this supposedly being a “relaxing retreat for self-care and vulnerability.” James felt absurdly underdressed in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. Her hair was a short, sleek bob, jet-black and not a hair fell out of place. 

Already James felt like he was being scrutinized under her gaze and they weren’t even out of the car yet. 

“I think we could make a break for it. Speed away. They’d never catch us,” Robbie said, patting the wheel fondly. 

James smiled. “Let’s show them what we do best. Solve murders,” he said instead and Robbie smirked back. 

Robbie turned off the engine and they both got out of the car. James stretched his legs and pulled his coat on. Robbie had insisted on blasting the heating for “his old, cold bones.” And already James missed the safety of the car. The safety of wearing a smart suit and being able to flash his warrant card and catching people off guard. 

Here, he had to feign normalcy. 

Well, as much normalcy as a Cambridge-scholar librarian could have. 

“Ah, you two must be the Lewis’s,” the leading woman said, who James assumed was Dr. Caroline Livingston. 

“Dr. Livingston?” Robbie asked, walking around the front of the car and holding out his hand.

“That’s correct.” She shook his hand and flashed a charming smile. 

“I’m Robbie and this is James,” Robbie introduced.

“Pleasure, ma’am,” James said, grasping her hand and shaking it. 

“Oh, no, please, call me Caroline.” She glanced back at the older man and young woman she had brought with her. “If you wouldn’t mind, Robbie, could you hand over your keys? Mark will need to take your car around to our garage.” 

“Oh, do we not get to have our cars on the premises?” Robbie asked, feigning surprise. 

Caroline smiled patiently. “You are, of course. We don’t keep you here like prisoners,” she laughed lightly and James managed a chuckle. “But we do prefer they are off the main way here. Mark will have your keys on the mantel of your room with the rest of your luggage.” 

James blinked. “We can certainly help take our stuff up. We brought quite a bit, someone likes to overpack,” he said, lightly elbowing Robbie in the ribs. Mostly he was worried that one of the staff, the girl or Mark, might go snooping through their stuff and find the slim folders they’d brought with them. 

Caroline smiled and held out an arm toward the manor. “Oh, no, don’t worry about that! I need to give you both the full tour!” 

James and Robbie exchanged a slightly mystified and concerned look. 

Full tour? 

\- - -

The manor was large enough that anyone could get lost in it. And as far as Robbie knew, only ten people were actually participating in the retreat at the moment, including James and himself. Add the two help he’d seen earlier, Mark and he hadn’t caught the girl’s name, and obviously Dr. Livingston, that meant that only thirteen people were in the manor. 

And on their tour, they saw no one else. 

When James casually asked where the other couples were, Caroline just smiled and said they were either in their rooms or elsewhere, doing whatever they wanted. Robbie could’ve sworn he saw her wink, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light because she turned away and kept on down the hall. 

“Your rooms will be on the third floor.” They had looped back into the main hall by the staircase. “Dinner is at six sharp, where you will probably meet the rest of the couples. Unless you want to wander around, you pretty much have the whole manor to yourselves unless it is designated group, couple, or individual therapy times.” 

“I’m sorry, Caroline, if this is a rude question,” James started and Robbie knew where it was going, but he looked at James in curiosity, as if he didn’t already know what he was going to ask. James’s voice dropped to a whisper. “But, we did hear that a previous member had died and I just wanted to make sure we weren’t in the room they were in.” James glanced at Robbie, concern playing on the planes of his face, but his eyes were conspiratorial. “It just makes me a little bit uncomfortable is all.” 

Robbie gently placed his hand on James’s shoulder, squeezing softly. He tried not to notice the way that James seemed to freeze for a second before he forced himself to relax. He hoped Caroline found James as difficult to read as ninety-nine percent of the population. 

Caroline’s lips curled into a slight frown. She clearly did not want Liam Harrison brought up, even in vague mentions. “No,” she said, her soft smile returning. But Robbie realized he didn’t trust it. It didn’t reach her eyes, which just remained flat and glittering like they were some prize to be torn into. “Don’t worry about that. We have ensured that you are nowhere near that room, but I do assure you that I’ve done all I can to keep the police firmly out of your business. That man’s unfortunate death had nothing to do with our little oasis.” 

“That’s good to know, thank you,” Robbie said, but already the cogs in his head were working and he held back a smirk at James. The police were already firmly in this business, but no need to let Caroline in on that secret just yet. 

Caroline nodded. “If you have any concerns, don’t hesitate to ask, but I’m sure you’re both tired from traveling.” 

“Exhausted,” James said and Robbie wondered if he meant it. He knew his Sergeant barely slept on most occasions, but now he was going to get a true look at what James’s sleeping patterns were. Atrocious, probably. But James probably just wanted to nip off for a quick smoke. 

“I figured. I’ll have Helen take you up to your rooms,” Caroline said, and as if by the magic of saying her name, the petite girl appeared at Caroline’s elbow and began up the stairs. “See you at dinner!” Caroline called as Robbie and James followed little Helen up the stairs to the second floor. 

\- - -

“Damn, this is better than what most copper’s pay could afford,” Robbie said as they stood in the middle of their room. 

“Better than what any copper’s pay could afford, I’d say,” James said, lightly running his hands over the back of the sofa that faced a huge fireplace. It wasn’t lit, but by the dial on the wall, it had been updated to a gas line. 

As promised, Robbie’s keys were on the mantel of the fireplace. Their bags looked relatively undisturbed at the foot of the Queen’s sized bed and James’s guitar was propped up on one of the sitting chairs by the window. Their view overlooked the vast lawn that sprawled all the way to a leafy forest about several acres away. 

“Which side of the bed?” Robbie asked, drawing James’s gaze away from the window. He was standing at the foot of the bed, hands in his pockets and coat still on. 

“Does it matter?” James asked, raising a brow. 

“Not really, I always slept on the side closest to the door with Val. Better protection from possible burglars or murderers.” Robbie shrugged. 

James couldn’t help but smile. It was kind of…cute. 

He gave his answer by flopping down, still in his socks and jacket, onto the side farthest from the door. “I do think I’ll need protection then. Considering I am just a lowly librarian and not at all a seasoned copper.” 

Robbie rolled his eyes and tossed a pair of his socks at James. It seemed to be the closest thing he had to hand. James caught them easily and tossed them back, lacing his arms behind his head. 

“Don’t poke fun at me, I was just being considerate.” 

James’s smile widened, he couldn’t help it. Plus, Robbie had his back turned to James as he dug through one of his bags for something. He could let his smile be as genuine and goofy as he wanted, as long as Robbie wasn’t looking, as long as he couldn’t be caught in the act. 

“I think it is very sweet, Robert.” James looked up at the canopied ceiling of the four-poster bed. The pillows were ridiculously lush and the duvet was soft under his fingers. 

“I think we should get going on this investigation. See if you can find some of the other members when you go out for a smoke. I’ll do a quick wander and we can meet back before dinner to brainstorm?” 

James sat up and heaved himself off the bed. He was itching for a smoke. “Sounds good to me,” James said and popped the collar of his coat up in preparation for bracing the cold wind as he sought out some of the other members of this retreat. 

He wandered back down the stairs, admiring a few of the renaissance paintings hanging on his way down. As he hit the landing, though, he noticed that most of the main hall had surrealist paintings hanging. Melting clocks, lovers kissing with cloths over their faces, other quite odd and explicit paintings that drew his eye. 

“I see you’ve found the erotic paintings,” a voice behind James said and he turned quickly on his heel. 

A woman was leaning against the door frame to the main parlor. Her hair was clipped jaw-length, deep chocolate and she had the kind of face that belonged in a black-and-white silent film. When she tilted her head, her bob shifted but her perfectly styled bangs didn’t. 

“It appears I have. Quite front and center, might I add,” James said. “Makes sense for a marriage counseling retreat, I suppose?” He glanced over his shoulder at the weirdly warped coital scene. 

“I’m not complaining,” she said and stepped forward, holding out her hand. “Eve Morgan, you must be either James or Robert.” 

“James,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it firmly. Her dark eyes glittered up at him from under thick lashes. “We’ve only just arrived.” 

“Well, then, let me be the welcoming party,” Eve said, looping her arm through his. 

“Mind if I grab a quick smoke first?” James asked, knowing he should be eagerly jumping at the “welcoming party”, which would be a great time to dig into creating a clear picture from the puzzle pieces. 

Eve smiled. “Only if I can bum one off you? My spouse has been trying to get me to quit for ages and I’m mostly good, but I’m absolutely aching.” 

“Just lead me outside.” 

\- - -

Robbie took a couple of minutes to wash up. He splashed cool water on his face, brushed his teeth again, and tried to make his hair lay with some volume but not all over the place. There was really no saving it, so he just shook his head at his reflection. 

As he exited the bedroom and glanced down over the railing that overlooked the main living area, he heard voices rise and drift, laughter, and murmured conversations. Before the manor had felt lonely and distant, but with the echoing sound of life, it was much homier. 

That and someone had turned up the fireplace and warmth was creeping up to the third floor now. 

Robbie ambled downstairs and into the living room. To his left was a large dining hall, but to his right, he could see a smaller den off the main sitting area. The laughter and talking seemed to be coming from in there. Trying to feel more like a moving company manager and less like a policeman, he pushed his hands into his pockets and headed into the den. 

Before he could even say anything, an older woman noticed him come close and she cut off mid-sentence. “Oh, hello there!” She got up from her seat before Robbie could even get a greeting out. “You must be one half of the new couple!” She touched the shoulder of a white-haired man sitting on the sofa facing the fire. 

“Ah, I am. My name’s Robbie,” he said, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand when she enveloped him in a hug. He blinked, startled by the sudden display of physical affection. But right now, he wasn’t an intimidating officer, he was a doughy husband. 

“Carla,” she said, pulling back. The white-haired man had gotten up by now and was waiting by the back of the couch. “And this is my husband, Jeff.” 

“How do you do?” Robbie asked, shaking the man’s hand. They looked to be in their sixties at least, even though Carla had dyed her hair bright, gingery red. 

Two more people had gotten up and were patiently waiting to greet and introduce themselves to Robbie. One was a younger woman, petite with a head full of bouncy black ringlets that hung like a cloud around her face. The other was a tall, dark-skinned man with his hands in his pockets and dark eyes looking quite far away. 

“Lucille Morgan,” the girl said, holding out her hand. A silver bracelet jangled on her wrist, dozens of charms hanging off of it. “But everyone calls me Luce.” 

“Evan Wolfe,” the man said, giving a small wave before sitting back down into his chair and fixing his reading glasses back on. 

Robbie blinked. Did young couples stop taking each other’s last names or were they not married? “I thought this retreat was for married couples?” He asked softly, glancing from Lucille and Evan. 

Lucille blinked and looked between Robbie and Evan before she giggled and shook her head. “Oh, no. We’re not married. Our better halves are probably conspiring against us,” she said as she perched herself onto the arm of Evan’s chair. 

Could’ve fooled him.

“Speaking of other halves,” Carla said as she guided Robbie over to the card table next to the sofa to sit with her and Lucille. “Where is yours?” 

Robbie settled down and Lucille began to shuffle a deck. He noticed her fingers were decorated with more rings than she’d had charms on her bracelet. The biggest one of her forefinger was missing a rather large gemstone. 

“Ah, he’s just nipped out for a quick smoke. I’m sure he’ll find me, always does.” 

Carla smiled sweetly, but Lucille was frowning, a line creasing between her brows. 

“I hope he didn’t drag Eve with him,” she muttered.

Carla’s smile fell and she reached out to lightly touch the younger woman’s shoulder. “She knows how you feel about that.” 

“Sorry, about what?” Robbie asked, trying not to sound too eager about what Lucille was talking about. 

Lucille shook her head. “It should be nothing.” She paused in her deck shuffling to pinch the bridge of her nose. “But I’ve been trying to get Eve to quit smoking for years now and she never manages it. I think it’s a tactic to keep me from controlling everything.” 

The cards snapped together in a bridge, her frustration and hurt plain on her face. She shook her head and began to deal. “Gin rummy?” 

\- - -

The gardens were completely bare, but the sharp breeze had receded and allowed James and Eve to stand comfortably among the leafless bushes and smoke peacefully. The lit cigarette dangling in her fingers, Eve wandered farther along the gravel path to a mostly obscured bench and sat down. 

James followed her, elbows on his knees, and smoke mingling with his frosted breath. “So, what brings you and your partner here?” Eve asked casually. 

“Good question,” James murmured. 

“Mmm?” He could hear the amusement in her hum and he glanced at her. She was smiling slyly at him, a puff of smoke trailing from the corner of her mouth. 

“What?” 

“You’re going to be one of those, aren’t you?” 

“One of what?” 

“The silent, broody types. Liam was like that, but Caroline has her ways.” 

James’s stomach jolted. Liam. He couldn’t let on that he knew who Liam was. “Liam? Is he one of the members here?” 

Eve sighed. “Was, yes. Died a couple of nights ago in Oxford. Shook us all. I just feel bad for Camille. I really thought they were going to work it out.” 

“Work what out?” 

Eve’s lips pressed together. “Probably shouldn’t say, seeing as you didn’t know them, but, Liam had cheated on her. A lot. With students and escorts, couldn’t say Camille was happy about him revealing that to the group.” 

“Does it get personal like that a lot?” James asked, brows furrowing together. Part of his brain was devoted to working this new piece of information into the knotted mystery of Liam Harrison’s murder and the other was genuinely curious to see if she thought that. 

Eve smirked and elbowed him lightly. “Yes. I know my Luce likes to run her mouth a lot. I think it comes from her barista job, helps her connect with customers, and get better tips.” 

“Luce?” 

Eve had struck him more as a femme fatal who the Oxford dons would’ve loved to swallow whole. Sophisticated, charming, alluring, dangerously beautiful and she clearly knew it. 

“Yes. Does that surprise you, James?” 

He shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d find many others in marriage therapy.” 

“Others? You mean queer people?” Eve raised an eyebrow and suddenly her dark eyes were all too knowing, all too familiar. She was staring straight through him. 

He took his time in answering by taking another long drag of the cigarette. “Yes, I suppose so,” he said, swallowing hard. 

Eve gently placed her hand on his wrist. “I know it may be hard to believe right now, but this is a safe place. Especially for those of us who sometimes have a hard time accepting it.”

James looked up at her. There was a deep sorrow to her eyes, flickering pain, that she let show only for a second. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of being accepted, so,” James trailed off, unable to really say it. 

He had never been able to say it. 

“Luce means well, but her parents have always been so accepting. She’s so open about our lives, our relationship.” Eve’s voice shook slightly and when James looked back at her, she was gazing down at the elegant ring on her finger. The diamond shimmered in the faint light, especially as she twisted it left and right. “Her folks are great, of course, better than I could’ve ever dreamed of.” 

“But yours?” James ventured. 

Eve’s eyes darted to his and her lips curled into a wry smile, the cigarette trembling in her fingers. She’d barely touched it. “What can I say, middle-class English men, are not usually the most liberal-minded.” 

“Cheers,” James said, tilting his cigarette in her direction and popped it back into his mouth. 

He did not want to think about his father. 

And he certainly did not want to think about his mother. 

He ran a hand through his hair, longer than buzzed and getting to the point where he needed to spend more than three seconds running his hands through it. She’d hated it short. 

“So, what’s your story then?” Eve asked, her voice casual again as if they were just discussing the weather and not queer identity. 

“Good old fashioned Catholic guilt among other things. Almost became a priest, if you can believe that,” James said and Eve actually snorted. 

“Damn. I’m sure there is more than that.” 

James shrugged. “Perhaps, but I guess we’ll find out in group therapy, now, won’t we?” He smiled at her and she shook her head lightly, but she was smiling. 

“You really are one of those.” And she tossed her barely used cigarette to the gravel, crushing it beneath her boot heel. 

James wondered how long that would last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize the chapters are getting much longer, mostly because I am having a blast writing them and I can't help myself from putting in all the details. 
> 
> also, the bit about the bed and which side either one sleeps on is inspired by my own parents and I've always found it appallingly sweet. 
> 
> I also have a firm feeling this might go over 10 chapters... but we'll see!


	4. never felt more comfortable, could never want for more when you're near

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from Bastille's "4AM"*
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Robbie found himself relaxing into several hands of gin rummy. They went quick since Carla was quite the card shark and usually within three turns, she had gin. Every time, without fail, Lucille would slam her cards down and waggle her finger at Carla, if only to make the older woman chortle with glee.

He was so absorbed in the next round that he didn’t even notice James enter the room.

Carla, however, ever the eagle-eyed woman, stood up the moment she heard footsteps.

Robbie was debating whether he should take the Ace of Hearts to go with the three and four when he heard the familiar voice.

“I assume he’d be around the fire. Whatever is the best place to rest his back and take a short snooze.” James’s voice was lulling and smooth, dry with sardonic wit, but edged with affection.

“Oh! You must be his Jamie!” Carla said as she bull-rushed James the same way she had to Robbie.

James looked startled as suddenly this older woman was pulling him into an impromptu hug, but it gave him a second to look over her shoulder at Robbie with a question written into the creases of his frown and startled blue eyes.

_“Jamie?”_

Robbie had never called him that in his life, but it was kind of…cute. And sort of fit James. Not Hathaway, his Sergeant, but James, his husband. He shrugged lightly and set his cards down as James got introduced to the rest of the members who were gathered in the den.

The only new addition was a stunning woman with bangs and ruby painted lips.

Since James had more people to become friendly with, she slipped behind him and held out her hand to Robbie. “Eve Morgan, you must be Robert.”

“Aye, I am.” He shook her hand and he realized this was the Eve that Lucille had been frustrated with, who Lucille was married to. “Your husband is a very interesting person, Robert,” she said, standing beside him as Lucille jumped up and down in excitement, clearly having just found out that James was also a writer.

“Your wife is possibly the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Eve smiled up at him. “I know.” A shy fondness bloomed on her face. The sort of soft, besotted look that overcame those who were utterly in love with someone. It was only for a brief moment and by the time Luce looked over, it was gone. Replaced with a placid and soft smile.

Robbie swallowed and James wandered over to him, coat hanging over one arm. For a brief moment, Robbie’s stomach tightened with panicked. _“Fuck, I can’t do this. They’re going to see we’re awkward with each other and it’s all going to go to hell.”_

But James, somehow, not-usually-so-smooth James, slid his hand into Robbie’s, and with minimal effort, their fingers interlocked. And it didn’t feel awkward or weird. He just glanced up at James and gave him a half-smile, which James returned with his signature half-nod head tilt.

Robbie had never deeply thought about how easy being close to James was, from sitting right next to each other on benches, at the pub, in their flats. But, now, with their hands interlocked, it felt more real. More concrete.

James took up the seat next to Robbie and was dealt into gin rummy even though he was trying to beg off of it. Luce didn’t listen and pulled both James and Eve into it. Robbie noticed James and Eve share a small smile and a cold feeling spread through his stomach.

Robbie looked quickly away and tuned back into what Carla was saying. Or tried to, but the nagging feeling of something was clawing up to the surface.

_“Jealousy? That’s ridiculous.”_ But Robbie very suddenly wanted to take James’s hand back and curl their fingers together. Instead, he picked up the queen of diamonds, which apparently was a poor choice, because two turns later, James flattened his cards on the table and declared gin.

Carla’s mouth fell open and she looked quite impressed. “Goodness! Robbie, you didn’t tell me your husband was going to run my table?”

Robbie looked at James, who was looking quite pleased with himself, but just shrugged one shoulder. “Didn’t know meself,” Robbie said, handing the cards back to Luce.

“Alright, well, then we should do teams!” Luce declared, scooting her chair closer to Eve, whose left arm dropped from the table and was no doubt heavy on Luce’s knee.

Carla huffed. “No way Jeff will ever help me,” she said, peering over Luce’s shoulder at her husband, who looked to be firmly passed out on the couch, newspaper folded on his chest.

“Well, you’re the best out of us, Carla, so I’m sure you can hold your own.” Luce flicked out three decks again and Robbie was forced to scoot his chair closer to James’s. He glanced up at James, secretly asking if this was okay, but James was loose and calm. His arm went around him, resting on the back of Robbie’s chair. They were now sitting side-by-side, flush from hip to shoulder, Robbie twisted slightly so James could look over his shoulder at the cards.

“So, how have your experiences been here, so far?” Robbie asked lightly as James picked up the seven of spades from the pile and tapped the nine of clubs.

“Oh, Caroline is a miracle worker. She has this way about her, so elegant, that at first, I was terribly intimidated. But she has a genuine concern for each of us, not just our relationships. I feel like I trust her completely,” Carla said, pausing on her turn to ramble about Dr. Livingston.

Luce glanced back at Evan, still reading close by. “What do you and Oscar think, Evan?” She asked and the other man jerked, looking up sharply, surprised to have been spoken to.

“I think she focuses too much on sex life. At least in our sessions.”

Robbie’s head rang of alarm bells. He avoided looking back at James, but he felt his arm stiffen. “You don’t have to focus on that, surely?” Robbie asked, glancing nervously from Luce to Evan to Carla.

“Well, it is certainly part of it. And she’s very compassionate and understanding. I’m sure she’s seen it all,” Carla said, giving him a soothing smile.

But Carla didn’t know.

Caroline couldn’t know.

_They didn’t have a sex life._

“Do you think that has to do with the fact that you’re a homosexual couple?” Eve asked, glancing back at Evan.

Evan swallowed and Carla swooped in to save him from a possibly tricky topic of discussion.

“I doubt it,” Carla said, glancing over Luce’s shoulder to ensure her husband was still asleep or appearing to be before she continued. “We talk a lot about our sexual relationship and how it is possibly helping or hindering our emotional intimacy.”

“And if your sex life is perfectly normal?” James asked.

Luce snorted. “No one’s sex life is perfectly normal.”

Robbie noticed that a blush bloomed across Eve’s face and she looked down at the table intently, clearly uncomfortable by her partner’s sudden outburst about their sex life.

“What is normal anyways? I think everyone is a bit of freak,” Carla said, finally picking a card off the pile and discarding it straight away. “I grew up in the sixties, everyone was a freak then, why shouldn’t they be now?”

Robbie glanced back at James and wondered if he was thinking the same thing he was.

LSD?

Robbie shuffled that piece of information into the back of his mind to ponder later.

The conversation and card playing were cut short by the sound of glass smashing and indistinct yells.

“Oh, I bet that’s Andrea,” Luce jumped to her feet so fast the chair almost tipped backward. Eve righted the chair and stood up more slowly, watching her partner rush from the table.

Robbie glanced at James, but his Sergeant was already out of his seat and following.

Carla set down her cards slowly, gathering them all up and placing them back in the box. “I feel so sorry for her,” she murmured.

Robbie, about to follow James, paused. “Who? Why?” He looked down at the older woman.

She sighed deeply, looking at her well-manicured orange acrylic nails. “Her husband is a bit of a brute. I think he bashes her about, but Andrea denies it. And now that Camille’s left, I reckon it’s been even harder for her to cope.”

“Camille?” Robbie prompted as if he didn’t know about Camille Harrison, the victim’s wife already.

“Oh,” Carla looked up, her lips pressed together as if he said too much. “Camille Harrison. Her husband passed away,”

“I did hear about that,” Robert said softly.

“Carson and Andrea Redding are the only couple you haven’t met yet. Besides Evan’s partner, Oscar. But the Reddings rub me a bit the wrong way. Not very social and Carson gives me such a bad feeling,” Carla stood up with Robbie and slid her chair back into the table. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of them, but I feel it’s important that you know that Carson is a tough piece of work. Don’t feel too badly if he isn’t friendly.” And she lightly patted Robbie on the shoulder.

Robbie headed back out of the den while Carla went to gently wake her husband.

A vase was smashed on the floor, shards of crystalline glass scattered everywhere. “Careful,” Eve said from where she stood near the mantel.

James was standing in between who Robbie assumed was Andrea and Carson Redding, hands outstretched in an attempt to keep them away from each other. Lucille had her hand on Andrea’s forearm, ready to keep her from charging at her husband.

The two of them were both breathing heavily and glaring at each other.

“What’s going on here?” A sharp voice called from around the corner and Caroline Livingston stalked out of the shadowy hallway.

Carson shook his head. He was tall and broad-shouldered, nearly as tall as James, with dark dirty blonde hair combed back with gel. His wife was equally as good-looking as her husband, but Andrea looked significantly younger, girlish face, curly reddish hair tucked up in a high ponytail, her cheeks bright pink and her green eyes burning with fury.

“Carson, dearest, care to explain?” Andrea spat, her fingers curled into tight fists.

Carson glanced around at the crowd they had now gathered and at Caroline. “Apologies, Dr. Livingston. My wife and I were having a row and I threw that vase.” He gestured at the offending flowers lying crumpled on the floor. “I will pay you to have it replaced since it was my fault.”

Robbie held back a snort. There was a much bigger issue than a broken vase and damaged flowers.

Caroline stepped closer to Carson and looked at him. “Why were you and Andrea arguing?” She asked, her voice calm and neutral.

Andrea’s jaw tightened. “I want to leave, Caroline.”

Caroline’s gaze swiveled sharply to Andrea. “Why is that?”

“I don’t feel like this has been particularly helpful for my husband or myself and I miss my home.”

Caroline took a deep breath and glanced around at everyone quietly watching it unfold. “I am sorry you feel this way, Andra, but the program has really just begun. Reevaluating and working to change the framework of a broken relationship is going to take time, effort, and a fair amount of discomfort.” Caroline looked back at Carson, who had smoothed his expression into one of neutrality. But Robbie could feel the anger rolling off of him in waves.

That man definitely had a temper.

But was it enough to kill Liam Harrison?

\- - -

“I feel this conversation would be better had in couple and individual sessions,” Caroline said, her gaze fixed firmly on Andrea. James had the feeling there was more than just wanting to go home at play here between the Reddings. “Will you at least give me tomorrow to have a session with both of you before you make your final decision?”

Carson looked at his wife, waiting for her to say.

“Fine,” Andrea finally relented after a tense moment. Her shoulders fell from their place around her ears and James saw Luce visibly exhale. How often did they fight like this happening around the manor? He made a mental note to question Eve about it later.

“Alright, dinner is in ten,” Caroline said and James stepped back from the space he’d occupied between Andrea and Carson. Slowly everyone dispersed. Andrea stalked off in one direction and Carson went the other way, Luce and Eve walked with Carla and Jeff toward the dining hall.

Evan was nowhere to be seen, nor was his partner Oscar.

James headed back over to Robbie. “What do you think that was about?” Robbie asked. He looked intense like he did whenever he felt like he was missing something from the puzzle.

“I’m not entirely sure, but I think it’s more than just wanting to go home. Carson was screaming about some kind of indiscretion and she didn’t want to go home with him.”

“What does that mean?” Robbie asked, raising his brows. “Is Andrea cheating on him too?”

“Possibly. Or she’s sick of the abuse. Wicked temper, throwing someone else’s expensive crystal vase.”

“And a sense of entitlement,” Robbie added. “What do you make of the others?”

“Apparently Liam was quite the charmer. Students and escorts, that sort of thing, according to Eve. Carla mentioning about the sixties isn’t direct evidence, but she might know a thing or two about LSD.”

“Exactly my thoughts, but there isn’t anything. God, I’m wondering what Innocent thought sending us in here would do. We can’t ask thorough questions without worrying we’re going to blow our cover.” Robbie turned away from him, hands on his hips, and frustration written into every line on his body.

James pressed his lips together and didn’t quite know what to say. It would take time to gather trust from the suspects. And it was entirely possible none of them knew anything. Movement caught James’s eye and he leaned slightly to peer out into the hallway. Evan had a hand on the elbow of another man.

Oscar, perhaps?

The other man was not nearly as tall as Evan, dark curls, temples streaked with gray and tanned skin. He was partially curled in on himself, hugging his elbows and rubbing his thumb against the soft green wool of the sweater. “Is that Oscar?” James asked in a low voice.

“I assume so,” Robbie said, glancing around to where James indicating with his chin. “Haven’t met him, yet.”

“I guess now would be the time,” James said, his stomach rumbling. It had been a while since they’d grabbed lunch.

Robbie nodded. “Well, let’s get on with it then.”

\- - -

The dining room was just as grand and opulent as the rest of the manor. The long mahogany table easily could’ve sat fifteen, but only eleven chairs were set up. Five on each side and one at the end toward the fireplace, presumably for Caroline Livingston.

Dinner began and went along without much fuss. Each of the couples sat beside each other, except Andrea who purposefully sat on the opposite side to Carson, which came as no great surprise. It was mostly small talk, discussions about the weather, about the local economy, everything typical with an Oxford dinner party.

Not that it felt much like a party.

The tension from Andrea and Carson was still palpable and they said nothing to each other. Just occasionally glared.

James tried to focus on the snippets of conversation that moved from person to person as the words overlapped and different people jumped in. Anything could be a clue. The faster they got this over with…

He glanced at Robbie and wondered if a part of him was glad they were doing this.

James hadn’t wanted to think about how part of him longed to have this domestic experience. To be married. Share a bed with someone, wake up beside them, go through life with them. To be honest, they kind of were like that already.

What was it that Robbie said? They were already friends so it shouldn’t be too hard?

James took a sip of his red wine. The hard part was that he had feelings that were not appropriate toward Robbie. He didn’t know if he loved him like that. In fact, he didn’t even know if he’d ever been in love like that.

“You okay?” Eve whispered, leaning over to him and her fingertips brushing against his knuckles. Instantly, James let go of his wine glass and realized he’d been squeezing it so tight his knuckles had turned white.

“Yes, yes, sorry. Just thinking,” he said, giving her a quick smile and she dipped her chin in understanding before turning back to her bean sprouts.

So much for trying to listen and learn new things. Everything was just so mundane as if a man they all knew hadn’t been brutally murdered and the murderer might be sitting among them. James glanced at Caroline, who was surveying the couples. There was that sharp predatory look to her again when she thought no one was looking.

Were they all just lab rats to her? Was she looking for ways to bring out the worst in people?

James looked away from her dark gaze fell on him and he decided he would not let her get to him. He couldn’t let her pry into him with her talons, turn him in a wriggling mouse. He just hoped both he and Robbie could emerge without any damage.

\- - -

Dinner wound down quite naturally and through what Robbie could only describe as a telepathic link that he and James sometimes shared, they went back up to their rooms instead of playing cards and drinking with the others, much to the disappointment of Carla and Luce.

Oscar and Evan headed up before them, talking closely with each other. Robbie noticed that Oscar had said virtually nothing during dinner, just stared down at his plate. He looked lost, floating as if he was just outside of the land of the living.

“What do you make of them?” Robbie asked as they headed up one more flight of stairs to the third floor.

James paused on the landing, looking down at where the other two had just vanished down the corridor. “I don’t know. Oscar seems…off and I think Evan is worried about him.”

“I want financial backgrounds on all of them. Someone is hiding something, I can feel it.” Robbie stalked down the hall and unlocked their room.

He headed to his side of the bed, unhooking his watch and placing it on the night table. He was tired, but mostly just from being in a new environment and a new situation.

“Robert, would you like me to sleep on the sofa?” James asked, his fingers lightly tracing the back of it. “I don’t think it’s really necessary to share a bed.”

Robbie blinked. “What the hell are you on about? God, no, I’m not having you exhausted and off your game because you slept on a couch when there is plenty of free space right here. I’m not going to bite.” Robbie shook his head. What a stupid thing to say.

When James said nothing and he looked back up, James’s cheeks were flushed a light pink, but he held up his hands. “Just thought I’d offer,” he said as he wandered over to his side of the bed. Robbie realized now that they were going to get ready for bed, (8 am sharp was when they were meant for breakfast), that they would be quite physically close. He hadn’t shared a bed with someone in years.

The bed dipped beneath him as James sat down. “No use both of us having back problems,” Robbie said, still facing away from James as he unlaced his shoes.

“Touche.” He heard the creak of the bed as James leaned back against the pillows. “I’m going to grab a quick shower,” Robbie said, rising from the bed and going to flip open his suitcase and gather his things.

“Mmkay.” Robbie glanced back and saw James typing something on his phone. Hopefully the financial records and background checks on the suspects. He headed for the bathroom, very ready for some hot water to soothe his aching muscles and warm up the old bones.

\- - -

James watched Robbie wander off for a shower and he sent off the last of the requests to the home office about what they wanted. He had a voice mail from Petersen about the wife, Camille, and how they thought she was lying about something, but she wouldn’t reveal it. Mostly it was just Petersen venting about how poorly the case was going on their end.

About halfway through, James snapped his phone shut and tossed it onto the bedside table. He sat on the edge of the bed and twisted the wedding ring on his left hand. This was so frustratingly annoying. He wanted to pound on doors, run down leads, not be stuck undercover with all the scrutiny focused directly at him as he was the new shiny person everyone wanted to know everything about.

He didn’t like the attention.

He cracked his knuckles and stood up, deciding to change out of his clothes and get into his pajamas.

Not that he really had pajamas, he usually just slept in boxers (or nothing at all), but he decided while he was packing that he would not be doing that.

He slid on an old police force shirt, one he’d gotten at a fundraiser when he was first in the force, it was worn and faded, but the softest thing he owned and a pair of sweatpants. No socks, because he wasn’t a heathen, and laid on top of the covers with Cymbeline. It had been found near Harrison’s body with several of the pages torn out.

Apparently, according to several of Harrison’s students, they were going to study it in the next term along with some of the other lesser-known and popular tragedies of William Shakespeare.

And considering Harrison had been found beheaded…

James shook his head and flipped open to the forward of his copy, which was mostly about gender, sexuality, and feminine virtue, all of the usual themes that scholars found within the works of William Shakespeare.

About half an hour later, Robbie wandered in, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. He was rubbing his hair with a towel and looking particularly disquieted.

“Something wrong?” James asked, letting the book fall open on his chest.

“I’m just wondering about Carson Redding. He’s an Oxford don, wealthy, handsome.”

James raised his eyebrows. Handsome?

“Yes, and?” He prompted and Robbie blinked, looking up.

“Well, when I went into the jeweler today she said something about a wealthy, handsome don buying rings for something. I just can’t help wonder if it was Carson.”

“There are many dons that probably visit the jewelers,” James said, as usual playing devil’s advocate.

Robbie shrugged. “I know, but it’s been bugging me. Do you think Carson was having an affair with Camille Harrison and killed her husband to be with her?”

“Carson is a cheater, so I guess it is possible. But why stay here with Andrea if he was planning on running off with Camille?”

Robbie hung the towel on the back of the chair. “Keep up appearances? Keep away from the police?”

“It is a theory.”

“Doesn’t hold water, yet, though. We need to get closer to Andrea.”

James nodded. “Best way is probably through Luce.”

Robbie pulled back the covers sharply and sat down on the sheets, clearly still thinking.

James wanted nothing more than to reach over and smooth the frown lines along his brow, trail his fingers down his temple to his cheek and…

He looked quickly away, not wanting to finish his thought.

“You seem to get along with Eve Morgan,” Robbie said casually, scrolling through his phone.

James held his breath for a second. How could he possibly explain that Eve understood him in ways he didn’t need to explain? Ways Robbie didn’t? “She is very friendly and I think she’ll be a good ally to have in the house.” James picked up Cymbeline again and tried to figure out where he left off.

“Unless she’s the murderer.”

James’s stomach swooped. He hoped to God she wasn’t. He didn’t know if he could arrest her. “If she is, I’ll figure it out.” He struggled to keep his voice neutral, but Robbie didn’t push it.

“Mind if I turn out my light?” Robbie asked after a while.

James flipped his page and shook his head. “No, go ahead. You need your beauty sleep.”

He heard Robbie grumble and the beside light clicked off. James still had his on and the faint glow of the fireplace across the room was more than enough to read by.

He was about halfway done when his eyes began to itch and the lack of sleep from the past couple days caught up to him. Robbie was snoring softly beside him and he set Cymbeline down, wiggled under the covers, and faced away from Robbie.

Even though he longed for sleep, it took a while to come. Rather he drifted in and out of dozing, but he blinked awake when he felt the bed shift and Robbie mumble something.

James glanced back and was surprised when an arm came looping around his waist, Robbie’s forehead pressed against his shoulder. Panic alarms blared and he didn’t move a muscle until he heard the snoring start up again.

Robbie had not warned him he was a cuddler.

But, Robbie didn’t move for a while, and eventually, James relaxed. His arm was warm and sturdy around his waist, the touch grounding and familiar. Calming in a way that only Robbie could be and James took a deep, cleansing breath. Robbie was asleep, he could indulge in the feeling of safety that Robbie gave him.

He resisted the urge to twine their fingers again.

James closed his eyes and drifted off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a therapy session will be in the next chapter, coming tomorrow!  
> let's just say I'm very excited <3


	5. if we're only ever looking back, we will drive ourselves insane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from Bastille's "Bad Blood"*
> 
> warning - - some heavy angst in this chapter and if you squint there are mentions of child abuse, but nothing said explicitly
> 
> enjoy <3

The early morning light trickled in slowly, filtering softly across the carpet and onto James’s face. He had been sort of awake for a bit, just letting himself lay in bed. When he opened his eyes and looked down, he was on his back and Robbie’s arm was gone. Ignoring the way his stomach sank at the thought of not waking up cuddled up to Robbie, he eased himself out of bed, slowly, as to not wake up the Inspector. 

Carefully, quietly, he pulled on his running shoes, a sweatshirt, and shorts, despite the fact that he would certainly be freezing in them. He popped in his headphones, hooked up his mp3 and tiptoed out the door. 

There was a piece of paper taped to the door that he was sure was not there last night. 

Pocketing his key and looking over the paper it showed the day’s schedule for therapy. 

8:30-9:30 - Robert and James Lewis

Fuck. 

9:30-10:30 - Carson and Andrea Redding  
10:30-11:30 - Oscar and Evan Wolfe  
11:30-12:30 - Lunch  
12:30-2:00 - Group Therapy  
2:30-3:30 - Eve and Lucille Morgan  
3:30-4:30 - Jeff and Carla Breckon

4:30-5:30 - Individual Conferences as needed  
6:00 - Dinner. 

“Bloody hell,” James muttered, flicking their names in the first slot of the day. 

He turned and headed downstairs and out onto the main lawn. Crispy frost-bitten grass crunched beneath his sneakers as he began at a slow jog away from the manor, hood up and music blaring. The sun had not risen yet, but its watery light could be seen on the horizon. 

James ran toward it. Away from the darkness, away from the manor that looked like the place he hated most in the world, away from the feelings that would surely swallow him whole if he let them. 

It hurt to breathe it was so cold. It pierced his lungs as he desperately gulped it in. His legs ached, but he couldn’t manage to care. Cold set in quickly enough, numbing the way his leg hair prickled in the frozen temperatures, numbing the way he felt about his Inspector, numbing the way he always felt. 

_Never doubt I love._

James stopped abruptly, gasping, eyes wild as he looked around. The manor was far off in the distance and he had almost barreled into the trees. 

Every inch of him screamed to stop, to let go, to fucking feel. 

And he was so far away from it all, suddenly everything that bombarded him all the time, forcing him to keep a level head was gone. 

He crouched on the ground and pressed his forehead into his palms. 

James nearly toppled over, his chest sucked in painfully and sobbed. 

_“Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!”_

James put his hands on the cold ground. It was a shock to his sweaty and warm palms, enough to pull him in. 

He’d been floating. Too close to the abyss, pulled in by too much at once. 

James looked down and realized he’d been ripping the grass, twisting it around his fingers, nails covered in dirt. He pushed himself to his feet, his breathing more under control, the overwhelming shock of anxiety and panic receding back into the hole it emerged from. 

He wiped his hands, grass-stained and dirty, on his shorts, just enough to wipe his face. His skin was cold and clammy, too hot and too cold all at once. Now that he wasn’t moving, cold has settled in again and he shivered. 

He pulled his headphones out and turned to wander back to the manor. 

James was about halfway back when he heard a voice from somewhere in the trees to his right. 

“I know, I know.” It was Andrea Redding. 

James stopped and stepped sideways toward the trees. Beyond a couple of pines, he could see Andrea standing with her phone pressed tight against her face, fingers rubbing together in an attempt to warm them. She was easy to spot with her shock of curly red hair, messy and tangled, but no doubt her. She had her back to James, the coat curled around her several sizes too large for her. Carson’s perhaps? 

“It’s going to be okay. I’m going to come back to you. I will always protect you, you know that right?” Andrea murmured, her voice betraying how choked up she was. “I’m so sorry, my love.” 

James’s brows came together in confusion. Obviously, she was not talking to her husband or even family? 

“I can’t get him to take me home.” Long pause. “I want nothing more than to hold you, to kiss you, god, I would do anything to be right there in your warm bed.” She fell quiet and then giggled softly. 

Definitely not a family member. 

“Andrea,” she breathed and James blinked. 

Why was she saying her own name? 

She pulled the phone away from her ear and hung up. “I love you,” she whispered before she pocketed her phone and looked up at the sky. 

James took this as his signal to bolt, so he popped his headphones back in, blasted the music and took off in a jog, just in case Andrea noticed him, she might not suspect he overheard. 

But his brain was spinning. Who the hell was Andrea in love with? Who was she talking to? And why the hell did she say her own name? Was there another Andrea she was in love with? 

Unlikely, but not impossible. 

He made it back to the manor and headed back upstairs for a shower, wanting nothing more than to wash the cold numbness away so he could rebuild and prepare for their first therapy session in an hour and a half. He kept his headphones in so he could have plausible deniability if anyone tried to call for him. 

James quickly unlocked the door and softly closed the door, just in case Robbie was still asleep. He didn’t even look as he made his way to the bathroom and threw the door open. 

“Oh, sorry!” James said seeing Robbie standing at the sink, toothbrush in his mouth, and white foam around his mouth. He quickly backpedaled and pulled his headphones out, heading back to his bags to get his shower kit. 

“It’s alright! Was just brushing my teeth,” Robbie called, sounding garbled through the toothpaste. 

James took a deep breath and smacked himself in the forehead. _“Dumbass.”_ He didn’t even consider that Robbie would be up and he could’ve been doing…other things in the bathroom. The door had been closed. 

_“Oh god. Don’t think about that.”_ James closed his eyes tight and tried not to think of Robbie touching himself in the bathroom. After a moment of steady breathing, he unzipped his suitcase and started to pull together an outfit. 

“Was your morning run nice?” Robbie asked as he emerged from the bathroom, already dressed for the day in faded blue jeans and a cream sweater. 

James did all he could to keep his jaw shut, he was probably sweaty and smelly, and there was Robbie looking like an advertisement for GQ. Those jeans fit dangerously well and the cream brought out the blue in his eyes. “Oh, ah, yes. Bit cold.” James finally managed. 

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Robbie asked, suddenly looking a touch insecure. 

James shook his head. “Oh, nothing, just that sweater looks very nice.” 

“Oh, thank you.” He looked down at himself, brushing his fingers down the front of it. “It’s quite cozy. Was a gift from Lyn a few Christmas’s ago.”

Before James could answer, there was a light knock on their slightly ajar door. It eased open and Luce stuck her head in. 

“Good morning!” She chirped, looking too perky for 7:20 in the morning. “Oh, I hope I’m not interrupting something.” She looked between the clean clothes in James’s hand and Robbie. 

“Nah, how are you this morning, Luce?” Robbie asked, putting his hands into his pockets. 

“Pretty good. I see you two are first up today,” she said, tapping lightly on the door. 

“First up for what?” Robbie asked, looking at James in confusion. 

“First couple’s session today,” James said and Robbie seemed to be trying very hard to suppress a sigh. “I’ve got to grab a shower, be down in a moment.” He nodded to Luce and squeezed Robbie’s shoulder on his way past. 

“Eve and I-.” Luce’s voice trailed away as he walked into the bathroom, cutting off as he closed the door. He let out a sigh and leaned against the door. 

This was going to be an excruciating week. 

\- - -

Robbie followed Luce down to breakfast, which was set buffet style in a smaller side room off the kitchens. It was a full spread, better than his usual half warmed oats that he never managed to get through before he was bolting out of the house, having spent too much time reading the newspaper. 

“The croissants are warm,” Luce whispered conspiratorially. “Better grab one before Carson eats them all.” And she plucked one up for herself. 

Robbie grabbed one along with a spoonful of warmed blueberry jelly onto the side for James. He didn’t eat much, but he always loved a croissant when they stopped in a cafe for coffee. Robbie grabbed himself a banana and a cream cheese bagel and went to sit by the others. 

Only Luce, Eve and Carla were up. Eve was sipping a cup of something steaming, probably tea based on the bag sitting on the spoon. Carla was digging into some cheerios and a yogurt. Moments later Jeff padded into the room. “Good morning all!” He declared before going to grab himself a healthy serving of porridge. 

“He seems more lively this morning,” Robbie murmured to Carla. The older woman smiled. 

“He always is in the morning. He gets up at 5. Brings me a coffee in bed.” Her eyes glimmered a bit with warmth. 

“Very sweet of him,” Robbie said. 

“Where are the others?” Luce asked, glancing around at their quite thin group. 

“Probably still sleeping. They stayed up quite late drinking brandy and playing cards. Especially Carson,” Eve said, somewhat darkly. She hardly glanced up from the paper curled in one hand. 

Luce sighed and fell silent. 

“Does he usually drink heavily?” Robbie couldn’t help but ask, even though it felt a little awkward coming out of his mouth now that he was supposed to be inconspicuous. 

Luce frowned and said nothing, but Eve was more than happy to speak up. “Yes. Why do you think he threw that vase.” 

“Hmm? He was drunk?” 

Eve looked up and glanced around. 

“Probably,” Jeff said gruffly, coming to sit by his wife with a coffee. “Mind if I see the paper after you, darling?” He asked Eve and she handed it over immediately. 

Eve sipped her tea. “He is almost always drunk. It’s what makes him such a charmer,” she said, sarcasm dripping off every word. 

“Eve,” Luce said with a soft warning in her voice. “He is working on it.” 

Eve seemed to really look at Luce and she sighed with a nod. Her lips quirked into a small smile. “Yes, dear, you’re right. I shouldn’t judge too harshly.” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to her wife’s temple. Luce seemed to melt into the gesture and her brilliant smile returned. 

Robbie filed the knowledge away and dug into half of the cream cheese bagel when James came into the room. He glanced at the plate of food but lack of two coffees and went to pour two cups for them. He returned to the table and handed Robbie his, six sugars and two creams, just as he always liked. 

“I’ve trained him well,” Robbie said to Carla who giggled into her yogurt. 

James slid down into the seat next to Robbie and oh god, why the hell did he have to smell so damn good? He usually did, unless he spent the night at the nick putting together an absurd amount of photos just to get a cohesive look at the story. But now, he was fresh out of the shower and Robbie wanted nothing more than to bury his head in the crook of James’s neck. 

Sometimes it wasn’t fair that James was so bloody good-looking. He’d let his hair get a bit longer, tufted up ginger-blonde strands, smug face with charming smile, knowing blue eyes, long fingers calloused from the guitar. Robbie wanted nothing more than to brush his fingers across James’s, feel him shiver. 

“This is yours,” Robbie said, breaking out of his thoughts to indicate the croissant. 

“Seems I’ve trained him well too,” James smirked, dipping the end of it into the jam and popping it in his mouth. “Blueberry?” He asked and Robbie’s stomach dropped. 

Shit. Was he allergic? 

“Yes,” Robbie said, trying not to let his alarm show through. 

James smiled, a bit of purple smudged on the corner of his mouth. “My favorite.” 

Without thinking, Robbie reached up and brushed the jam from the corner of James’s mouth and he saw a shiver go through James, his pupils dilate. 

He wanted to do it again, but instead, he just wiped his hands and dug back into the bagel. 

Just a trick of the light. 

\- - -

Caroline’s office was suspiciously wonderful. A diffuser puffed out long trails of lavender-scented mist, the sun had decided to come out and shone brightly through her bay windows that overlooked the barren land and pine trees. 

James wondered if this was what hell would be like. 

Eve had given him a comforting smile and tilted her tea at him. Luce and Carla insisted it would be good for them while Jeff did a throat-slashing motion behind his wife’s back. 

“Very reassuring,” Robbie had muttered once they were out of earshot of the breakfast nook. 

James clapped a hand on Robbie’s shoulder. “I’m sure this will go quite well. What could she possibly do?” 

Robbie’s apprehensive look did nothing to soothe the jumping ball of anxiety and nerves that had not left James since they were set on the assignment. 

Now, they sat on the couch, close enough for their knees to touch, their backs to the sunny lawn, and Caroline had one leg curled up underneath her, tablet balanced on her knee, writing something down quite quickly. When they’d come in, she’d greeted them quite warmly and invited them to sit down. 

Now, she was making them wait and James hated it. His palms felt sweaty and the confidence that they could make it through this was waning. 

They didn’t need therapy. She was going to kick them out and they would never learn anything about Liam Harrison’s murder. 

And James wouldn’t get to spend another night in Robbie’s arms. 

Suddenly Robbie reached out and took James’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. James smiled at Robbie, resisting the urge to make a sarcastic comment to cover up the warm fuzzy feelings that flooded his body with dopamine. 

“Okay, sorry about that, just needed to make a few quick notes.” Caroline finally looked up and brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her cheek. “So, first, I want to know that these sessions are completely confidential. Your individual sessions are completely confidential. Group sessions are a little more open, but I will never speak about anything said there with anyone else. Signed contracts and such, paperwork that needn’t be discussed long.” 

“Good to know,” James murmured. 

“I want us to start relatively small. Most of the time, I find, that when we jump into the deep end too quickly it is harder to open up and it becomes difficult to get real, honest answers. So we will get there. However, since you two did jump in two weeks late, I was wondering if it was okay to dip our toes into the middle of the pool? Not quite the deep end, but nothing too shallow either.” Caroline looked back and forth between them, patiently awaiting a response. 

James tried to keep his breathing even. His fingers tightened around Robbie’s and he glanced at him. Slowly he nodded and Robbie smiled. 

“Yeah, that should be fine. We just appreciate you squeezing us in literally last moment. Later than last moment,” Robbie chuckled. He was going to follow James' lead on this. 

Caroline smiled. “Perfect. I want, in a couple of words, for you to say what you perceive the problem in your marriage to be. Not why or how or when just what is it.” Her gaze turned to Robbie. “How about you first, Robert?” 

Robbie took in a deep breath. “I would say, probably, communication?” He sounded unsure and Caroline sensed it. Her posture shifted a little. She leaned in, that predatory, hawk-like flare glinted in her eyes before it went back to nothing. 

“How about you, James?” She asked, shifting toward him. 

He swallowed. “Emotional intimacy.” 

She nodded, her pen flicking across the paper, but her eyes never left James. 

“Okay. Luckily, both of those things are firmly linked together. Often times the lack of emotional intimacy,” she gestured to James, “that you may feel is linked to the fact that you,” she gestured to Robbie, “feel the communication is lacking. Make sense?” She asked and they both nodded. 

“You two have been married three years?” She asked. 

“Yes,” Robbie said. That was their agreed-upon number. 

“But you’ve known each other longer than that?” 

“Yes,” Robbie repeated. 

“So, in those three years, what is a time, if you can recall, that you felt like your emotional needs were not met, James?” Caroline asked, her voice soft and gentle as if she was speaking an easily rattled horse. 

James swallowed hard. “Um.” He didn’t know what to say. He glanced at Robbie, who was looking at him with genuine curiosity and interest. The kind of look he gave him when James was about to give him an answer to an academic question. He reached up and rubbed his neck. 

The problem was, he knew exactly when. Multiple times. 

But he hadn’t leaned on Robbie because they weren’t partners. They weren’t partners now. It wasn’t Robbie’s responsibility to help him pick up the broken pieces of himself and mend them together. Granted, James clearly couldn’t do it alone, but he hadn’t admitted defeat yet. 

“Um,” he stammered again. 

“You’re thinking of something?” Caroline prompted and James glanced at Robbie, a silent apology in his eyes. 

“Yes, it’s just difficult.” 

“I understand that. You don’t want to hurt Robbie for things that may have happened in the past. But unless they come to the light and we understand them, he can’t do better for the future.” 

James looked down at his hands, one threaded through Robbie’s and the other gripping his own thigh for support, balance, it was grounding. “We visited an old place I used to live. Some pretty bad things happened there and I didn’t, still don’t, really, know how to talk about them. It was difficult and I-,” James stuttered to a halt, unsure of what to say. 

“Did you feel that Robert didn’t notice you were struggling emotionally?” 

James clenched his jaw. That was part of it. “I don’t really open up to allow for emotional intimacy. It is more my problem than it is his.” 

Robbie shook his head. “No, that’s my fault too. I should’ve asked you what you needed.” 

“I didn’t, I don’t know what I need.” James looked away from Robbie and Caroline. He started to feel hot and uncomfortable like he wanted to run away again. 

“I see,” Caroline murmured. “What do you think you need from Robert to open up and trust him?”

James looked up at Caroline from under his lashes. Her gaze was scrutinizing, but not unkind. 

“I don’t know.” James hated how hot his face felt, how the shame and guilt were swimming to the surface and he felt like his entire body was about to burst into flames. Was this the punishment from God for acting on his desire to be redeemed? His desire to be loved? 

“Could we move on, maybe?” Robbie asked, sensing how uncomfortable James was becoming.

“We can, but I would advise against that. This topic is circling around to the communication issue you brought up,” Caroline said, sounding hesitant to move on. 

James didn’t even want to think about what she would do when Robbie wasn’t there to help deflect attention. 

When Robbie didn’t say anything Caroline charged on. “How do you feel about James feeling unable to open up to you? Is it connected to the communication problems you perceive?” 

“I just, I figured it was part of just who he was. There were parts of him I would never know, I didn’t realize I may have contributed to the hurt you locked away,” Robbie’s voice was quiet, so low that James wasn’t sure that Caroline could even hear him. 

“It’s not like that,” James whispered, looking up at Robbie, who was looking at him with so much pity and it felt like he’d just been hit with a lash. 

“Then what is it like?” Caroline’s voice was just as quiet as theirs. Hushed, as if she didn’t want to break the tension. 

He couldn’t say it. James couldn’t bring himself to admit what he’s known all along. “I don’t want to be a burden, so I don’t put those things on you.” James paused. “Simple as that.” 

But it wasn’t. Oh God Almighty, it was so much more than simple. 

“Being partners is about sharing those burdens, it always has been, James. You have helped carry mine. My grief about Val, Morse. My gripes and groans about retirement and how I don’t know how I’ll cope once I don’t have my job anymore.” Robbie was squeezing his hand hard now, trying to keep him from drifting away. “I want to help you, James. I want to help you carry whatever it is you’re trying to carry because I don’t want to see you drown.” 

_Fuck._

James bit his lip, the familiar prickling sensation behind his eyes. 

How could he subject someone else to the pain? To the shame? The guilt? The humiliation? The coldest parts of himself? 

Robbie would never look at him the same way. He might not after this first session. 

“How does that make you feel, James?” 

“James?” He looked up at Robbie and realized he was gripping Robbie’s hand and his leg so hard, his knuckles were white and Robbie was grimacing.

“Sorry,” he murmured, relaxing his hand. He tried to draw it away, but Robbie held on loosely. “I just worry about how it will affect our relationship. I don’t want things to change.” 

Quiet descended for a moment, just the hum of the radiator and the creaks of an old house. “That isn’t quite true, though, since both of you are here,” Caroline said. 

James reached up and touched the corner of his eye, brushing the stray tear away. _“Get a grip, Hathaway.”_

“I thought we weren’t going to get deep this session?” James said, letting his sardonic tone shine through. Cover up the welling of emotions that threatened to drag him under. 

“Well, every session kind of finds its own emotional drift and pattern. I think, just from this little chunk of time, that you both have some things to work on. On a surface level, you both seem to be working well, but under the surface, a tension boils.” Caroline rose from her seat, setting her tablet down on the coffee table. She’d written hardly anything. She walked over to her bookshelf stuffed with psychology tomes. “I know, sometimes, especially with male couples, talking about emotions in front of others can be quite difficult. Especially at first. This is an unfamiliar environment that keeps change and working on the self at the forefront of the brain.” 

She came back to the table and held out what looked like a pack of cards. 

Robbie took it with his free hand, turning them over to look at the nondescript black box. 

“I gave a pack to each of the couples here. It’s a set of cards with questions on them. Take some time today and tonight to answer some of them and see if it opens up some channels of connection, conversation, and intimacy.” 

Robbie put the box on the sofa arm and James clenched his jaw. He was not going to escape this, was he? 

\- - - 

Robbie wished he knew what to do. What to say. 

James looked like he was ready to either burst into an angry rage or tears. And he hated that now, Robbie could physically see James shove it all down, lock it away in a box that Robbie couldn’t reach. 

Maybe that was for the best. 

Robbie wasn’t actually his husband. If James didn’t want him to see the vulnerable sides of himself, Robbie had no right to demand it. He wasn’t actually involved in James. 

But god, he wanted to be. He wanted nothing more than to pull James into his arms and tell him it was okay to break. 

He would be there. 

Now, the cards sat heavily on the arm of the couch, mocking him. _Good luck_ , they seemed to whisper. 

“Well, let’s shift gears then. We have plenty of time to come back to that topic.” Caroline picked up her tablet again and settled back into her wingback chair. “How about physical intimacy?” 

Robbie’s stomach turned and his heart leaped to his throat. _“Shit. Evan was right.”_

“What about it?” Some of the redness had dissipated from James’s face and he sounded more in control. 

“Do you feel a lack of connection in your physical connections? It is very typical of couples who express that emotional needs not being met to feel similarly about their bedroom life.” 

God, she was saying this like they were talking about the weather. 

Robbie saw James swallow hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Not that I’m aware of,” James said, voice tight as he glanced at Robbie. “I think we’re fairly vanilla,” James said. 

Robbie hoped his face didn’t betray how uncomfortable he felt. 

“Any unexplored kinks?” 

_“Jesus, she is relentless!”_ Robbie thought and the moment she said it, several images flashed through his head. 

Handcuffing James to the headboard, touching every inch of beautiful skin. Ice running down his heated sides, listening to him yelp in surprise. God, would he be a brat? Would he be a dom? 

Robbie felt a pleasant chill run down his spine before he shoved the thoughts away. He was suddenly very aware of James’s hand in his. 

When neither of them replied, Caroline looked up and her brows raised a fraction. “I take that as a yes.” 

James’s jaw clenched and he swallowed again. Was he thinking about his kinks? They’d gone to a sex club once on a case and James had seemed unfazed by it. Was it because he wasn’t into those things or was it because it didn’t shock him? 

Sometimes Robbie wondered what it would be like to explore his own sexuality and fantasy. Val had been open and supportive and their sex had not been vanilla. Infrequent because of his job and raising the kids, but Robbie had no doubt over their sexual chemistry. 

Would he and James even have sexual chemistry? Would they work that way? 

Was James even gay? 

Did the idea of having any kind of physically intimate relationship repulse James? Just the thought of it brought on a sweep of sadness and dread. 

“I don’t think Robert or I believe that our sex life is the cause of our problems,” James said, his voice somewhat harsh and cold. 

“Okay,” Caroline said, her voice light despite James bordering on rude. “How often do you have sex? Times per week, month?” 

“Twice a week, if we get the time,” Robbie said. That was how often he and Val had sex when work wasn’t too busy and once the kids were out of the house. 

“Does it ever feel like a chore?”

“How do you mean?” James asked, glancing at the clock on the table beside Caroline. Robbie wondered if the hands were moving slower. 

“Does it feel that since you are married you have to have sex a certain number of times? Is it meaningful sex?” Caroline asked. 

Robbie wondered if maybe he and Val should’ve done something like this. It wouldn’t have been nearly as bad if they were actually sleeping together. 

“I don’t, no,” James said, glancing at Robbie. His expression was unreadable, just a flicker of something in his eyes that kept Robbie’s gaze on James, even as he looked back to Caroline. 

“Making love is always meaningful, it isn’t just sex when you’re with the right person,” Robbie said.

Caroline nodded and jotted something down. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. “So, we are nearly out of time, but I want to leave you both with a question to consider for the next session.” She flipped her tablet closed and look up at both them with a calm smile on her face. “Why do you love each other? And I would like a list of things. Physical things, intellectual things, emotional things. For example, you love when he touches you a certain spot, or you love him when he helps you complete a crossword puzzle. Just moments where you think about the fact that you are in love.” 

Robbie nodded. At least they had some preparation they could do before their next session. “I want to build a picture of what brings you two together in love, so I can have a clearer idea and also so you both can understand better. That make sense?” 

Robbie nodded and felt James pull his hand out of his as he began to stand. “Thank you, Caroline,” James said with the most amount of politeness that Robbie had ever heard him muster. 

He wondered if Caroline sensed the sarcasm in the sickly sweet politeness. 

It took all of his will power not to smirk as he stood up. “Yes, thank you, Caroline.” 

She nodded, looking down at her notes. “I’ll see you both in the group later.” 

\- - -

“Where are you going?” Robbie asked as James made a beeline for the stairs. 

“A smoke.” 

Good God, he needed one. He found his coat on a rack near the back door and he grabbed it, shrugging it on and heading out the door before anyone could stop him. The door slammed a little too hard as he went on his way out. 

He fumbled for a cigarette, his hands trembling so hard that he almost burned his finger trying to get the end lit. If this was what emotional intimacy felt like he had already had enough of it. He walked out into the sunshine, down the lawn to where he had been running earlier. It was still bitterly cold, but the sun had burned away most of the frost, leaving the grass shiny. The cold drops sank into the mesh of his sneakers, chilling his feet. 

He missed Oxford. Normalcy. A case that didn’t involve fucking feelings. 

“James!” He turned and saw Robbie hustling across the lawn, no coat, just that ridiculously wonderful cream sweater. “Can we talk?” 

“About what?” James asked through another pull of the cigarette. 

Robbie had his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows. “Crevecoeur Hall?” 

James sucked in a breath. It felt like Robbie had just sucker-punched him in the stomach. 

“That’s what you were talking about in there.” Robbie jerked his head to the manor. “Have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t open up to me? Was it something I said, or did?” 

James felt the rush of anxiety come back, the heat of shame curling in his stomach. “Why does it matter? We aren’t being scrutinized by Caroline Livingston right now. We can just let it go,” James snapped. 

“Can we? James, if you are hurting, you know I want to help you,” Robert said, he opened his mouth to say more but closed it. So much concern, so much pity was written on his expression. 

“It isn’t your burden, I told you that.” James looked away. He couldn’t break. He had to be strong. 

“But it is. We’re partners, James. You’re my Sergeant and more importantly, I’m your friend. I’m here, let me be there for you.” 

James hated the way his eyes prickled. 

“Why do you want to punish yourself? Is that what this is about?” 

Damn Robert Lewis for being a damn good detective. 

James bit his trembling lower lip. “Why do you think, Robert?” He whirled around, facing him. His chest was heaving, the guilt rearing its ugly head and suddenly it tumbled out. “I’m the reason the first boy I ever kissed, perhaps even loved, killed himself. I’m the reason why one of my best childhood friends continued to be sexually abused when I knew what was happening. I became a police officer and I didn’t even go back and help. I never spoke up. I’ve been a coward my entire life, so no, I don’t believe I deserve to place my horrible burdens on someone else.” 

Robbie was silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open. 

“Especially not someone who I admire, who I respect, who I-I-I,” James stammered, the words caught in his throat, painful like thorns. He took a breath, short and shallow, barely enough to speak with. “Who saved my life even though I should’ve burned in that fire for my sins.” That somehow was easier to say the ‘l’ word. 

“James.”

He turned away from Robbie, tossing the cigarette into the grass and crushing it beneath his sneaker heel. Not even that could soothe the rampant burn of thoughts that threatened to devour him. 

_“Coward. Sinner. Liar. How can you deserve love when Will is dead and you are the reason. How can you deserve someone else’s love when your own mother didn’t even love you.”_

“James Hathaway,” Robbie said, his voice so close to him now. Hands landed on his shoulders, trying to turn him around. James stumbled around and found Robbie so close that his first instinct was to push him away. Robbie’s hands, cold from the air pressed against his cheeks, cupping his face. 

It was so gentle, so tender that despite all of the holding back, tears spilled from the corners of James’s eyes. It was so foreign and odd, he hadn’t cried since he’d collapsed into the arms of Zoe Kenneth. He hadn’t wanted to, hadn’t been able to bear it. 

“Please, will you let me help you? Let me be there for you? Please,” Robbie’s voice was so soft and quiet, pleading with James to give him permission to help. “You know I won’t judge you, I won’t yell at you.” Robbie brushed his thumbs against James’s tear-stained cheeks, the pad of his finger rough and cold against his sensitive and inflamed skin. 

“I don’t understand,” James whispered. Why did Robbie, of all people, want to help him heal? 

Robbie’s lips curled in a small smile. “You don’t realize how much you mean to me, do you?” 

“Obviously not,” James said wryly, reaching up to wipe the tears from his cheeks, his fingers brushing against where Robbie was still holding him still. 

“Come on, you look exhausted. We don’t need to talk about this now and not out here. It’s too damn cold.” A shiver ran through Robbie as the wind picked up and surely cut right through the cozy sweater. 

James took a deep breath. The catastrophe of emotions that had threatened to overwhelm him subsided, leaving him feeling a bit wrung out and not ready to talk about things again. “Okay,” he murmured, scrubbing his face and shaking his head to try to clear it. 

Robbie put his hand on James’s back, guiding him back to the house. “I think I owe Luce a game of cards and I definitely need you to help me beat her.” 

Despite everything, James couldn’t help but laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this the longest chapter yet? yes. did I love writing it? double yes.   
> did it also emotionally exhaust me because I feel akin to James Hathaway? that's for damn sure, whoops.


	6. let's pick the truth that we believe in, like a bad religion, tell me all your original sins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from Bastille's "Doom Days"*  
> this chapter title really could go with this one or the next chapter 
> 
> this is a bit more of a philosophical chapter and did I use it as an excuse to meditate on being a bad person and guilt? maybe!  
> enjoy <3

“So, how was it?” Luce asked the moment they reappeared in the manor. She was curled up on the sofa with a blanket around her shoulders, a steaming mug of tea clamped in her hands. “Your first session.” Her eyebrows wiggled up and down. 

“Luce, calm down, let them breathe for a second.” Eve placed a hand on Luce’s knee and her wife looked at her with fond exasperation. 

“Sorry! I’m just curious!” 

James sank down into the couch opposite them, Robbie right next to him. Eve’s eyes flicked over James’s face, she met his gaze and her lips twitched into a frown for a half a second. 

He wanted to say it was just the cold, but they both knew it wasn’t true. “Tea?” She asked, rising from the sofa. Her head tilted a bit, a signal that he should come with her. 

“I’ll get yours, Robert,” James said, his fingers light on Robbie’s knee as he stood up and followed Eve into the kitchen. 

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well,” Eve said softly as they padded into the kitchen. It was deserted, all of the croissants gone and just a few lone apples left in the glass bowl. 

James sighed. “Did you have things you’ve kept from Luce?” He asked, leaning against the counter as Eve flicked on the electric kettle and set to preparing two mugs. 

“Like what?” 

“Secrets about your past. Things you don’t want to burden her with.” 

Eve looked up, a sorrow he’d seen reflected when he looked in the mirror evident on her face. God, it made her even more devastatingly beautiful. “I have in the past.” 

James was quiet, waiting for Eve to continue. For a long beat, she stared out the kitchen window, lost in the thought. James was about to break the silence when she continued. “I thought I had healed the pieces of me that other people broke. I thought I could be perfect for Luce, just as she seemed perfect to me. I thought she was completely undamaged, that I would ruin her if I let her see the darkness.” 

James bit his lip. It sounded familiar. That was what had happened in all his other relationships. Jonjo, university relationships, Fiona McKendrick, hell, so many others who didn’t even get the chance. He knew that was why he’d been alone for so long, why those relationships hadn’t lasted. 

“For so long I tried to keep a guard up, but Luce has a way of wiggling in. A way of making you feel so safe and secure. I thought if I brought up things I had done in the past, she would reject me and I wouldn’t feel safe anymore.” Eve ran a hand over her bangs, flicking them lightly. “Fear of heartbreak, rejection, that was what kept me from telling her.” 

“What did you do?” James asked. 

Eve’s lips curled into a wry smile. “Why do you think we’re here?” 

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh,” he murmured. 

Eve held out her hands and James lightly placed his in hers. “The first session we had, Luce broke down crying, she thought I didn’t love her anymore because I was hiding something. She thought I was cheating on her,” Eve said, pausing a moment to shake her head and chuckle. “I have loved her for years, the only person I’ve ever really loved. She has me entirely, but I didn’t show her that. Didn’t let her know how loved she’d been all this time. She worried she couldn’t break down because then I would fall even less in love with her.” Eve lightly shook her hands. “I’m sure Caroline gave you those blasted cards. I recommend something strong to drink and some romantic candlelight and just talk them over. It gave me the voice to tell Luce how I felt about her, how lost I would be without her.” 

James looked down at her. Eve looked so hopeful, so sweet, so wonderfully vulnerable that he bit his lip and felt the prickling behind his eyes start up again. 

“Thank you,” he breathed as the kettle clicked off and the water roiled in it. 

Eve smiled, her face so utterly brilliant that he knew the whole world would love her if they saw that part of her. She let go of his hands and turned to pour the water into the glasses. “How do you and Robbie take it? Milk, sugar?” 

“Just honey for me. Milk and six sugars for him.” James leaned against the counter and considered what Eve had said. 

It was sound advice. 

Well, it would’ve been, if Robbie knew and felt the same way about him that James did. 

“Hey, Eve,” James said, remembering Andrea from earlier. “Do you know of any reason why someone would want to call their lover by their own name?” It had been bothering him. He knew he was missing something. A vital piece to that puzzle because he doubted Andrea had managed to fall in love with someone with the same name. It was incredibly common. 

Eve looked at him, clearly puzzled and unsure of where he was coming from. “Um, actually, it is funny you bring it up.” Her brows scrunched together. “But you weren’t in that group session,” she breathed before she refocused on James. “Have you read much gay fiction?” 

“No, unless you count Shakespeare’s comedies.” 

Eve chuckled and rolled her eyes. “And you call yourself a librarian.” 

“Not really a contemporary guy,” James said, watching her as she went to grab the tea. 

“Oh well, I’ll have to get Evan to loan this one to you. _Call Me By Your Name_ by, oh God, what is his name? Can’t remember, anyway, the two main characters in the story call each other by their own name, hence the title.” 

“How did you get to talking about it in group?” James asked, raising his eyebrows. 

“Ah, Evan had brought it up. I think it was in regards to age gaps, but also the queer experience and heartbreak. Lots of things, really. I haven’t read it, but that’s what was brought up, I believe. Luce wanted to read it since she is a writer. Just like you,” Eve smiled fondly. “And she obviously writes about the queer experience,” Eve said and James had a feeling there were sarcastic air quotes around ‘queer experience’. 

“Ah, yes, a worthy topic of pursuit for any writer,” James murmured, although now he was wondering if Andrea had just stolen this facet of _Call Me By Your Name_ because she thought it was romantic or if she was engaged in her own queer experience or awakening. 

“Why do you ask?” 

James blinked. “Oh, I just heard someone say something about it.” 

Eve raised her brows, clearly a little eager for gossip. “Who? One of us?” Her voice lowered and she swirled her finger around in the air to indicate the manor and retreat group. 

She’d been so helpful and he wanted to seem a part of the group. He couldn’t hold back simply because he felt police ethics breathing heavily down his neck. If he was a normal person in this situation, he knew he would tell her. Even if he hesitated. “Andrea.” 

He hated the fact that he’d told her the moment it left his mouth. 

Robbie would be disappointed. 

Eve’s brows seemed to go higher, vanishing into her bangs. “Really?!” Her voice was hushed but shocked. “I never, well,” she blinked several times. “Her husband is a brute.” 

James opened his mouth to say something but Eve waved him off. “I know, I must be kind. We’re all going through it, but it does bother me how much Carson shows that he has a silver spoon shoved up his ass.” 

“I was going to ask that you keep this conversation secret.” 

Eve’s eyes glimmered with delight. “Obviously. Except for Luce, of course.” 

James felt a spike of alarm and it must’ve shown on his face because Eve rolled her eyes, looking slightly annoyed. 

“I know she seems like she can’t keep her mouth shut, but she wouldn’t do that to Andrea. If Andrea is having an affair or discovering herself, Luce would never out that.” 

Relief swept through him. Then guilt. He should’ve believed that. Luce wouldn’t hurt a fly. 

“Come on. Tea’s getting cold and I’m sure my wife has chatted Robbie’s ear off by now.” Eve handed James his mug and carried Robbie’s out. 

\- - -

“I was just telling Luce how she reminds me of Lyn, my daughter,” Robbie said as they reappeared. Eve held out a mug to him and he took it, gladly, wrapping his still cold fingers around it. 

James settled down next to him. He had more color to his face and looked less fragile. 

He wondered what Eve had said to him. 

James looked at him with eyes that said he’d found something out, but Robbie didn’t want to just disappear without good reason. 

Well, everyone would probably think they were having sex, which would be a good cover if they ever needed to get away, but truth be told, Robbie was enjoying being completely normal for a bit. And he wanted to talk to Luce a bit more. 

“So, Luce tells me that you have quite the high profile job, Miss Eve,” Robbie said, leaning back with his tea. His shoulder bumped James’s as he sank into the fluffy couch. He looked at James, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Eve rolled her eyes. “She brags, I’m sure. Investment banking, quite boring really. Lots of paperwork.” 

“Big hotshot compared to everyone else.” 

Eve sighed and nudged Luce with her foot. “You didn’t tell him my suggestion for my career change, did you?” 

Luce’s face immediately flushed and her mouth opened and closed like a fish. “No!” 

“Oh, come on, now you must tell us,” James said, his voice low and rough, conspiratorial. 

“Don’t you dare!” Luce said, lightly slapping Eve’s ankle. 

James dropped his head onto Robbie’s shoulder, slumping down further into the couch with his feet on the coffee table in front of them. James was solid and warm next to him and when Robbie looked at him from the corner of his eye, James’s eyes were fluttering closed. 

Eve chuckled. “And why not? It’s my career, not yours.” 

“You know I’m not comfy talking about it.” Luce dragged her sleeves over her hands and glared at her partner. 

“Okay, dear, no need to get worked up.” 

Before James and Robbie could continue their prodding, they heard a yell from upstairs. 

Both bolted upright, immediately rushing into the hall as they heard Andrea shouting from upstairs. 

“I HATE YOU!” 

She stalked down the stairs, throwing her scarf around her throat. 

“Where are you going, darling?!” A cruel voice called down and when Robbie looked up he saw Carson leaning over the railing. 

“HOME!” 

“Good luck, honeybunch! I have the FUCKING KEYS!” And with that, he pushed off the railing and stormed away. 

“Jesus, they didn’t even make it thirty minutes,” Eve said, looking down at her watch. 

Andrea was a whirlwind as she ran out of the house without even her coat. Luce, sweet and empathetic, ran after her, grabbing both their coats and following Andrea without another word. 

Eve turned and headed back toward the sitting room. 

“Robert, I have some things to tell you,” James whispered close to his ear. Robbie looked up and nodded, trying to contain the shiver from being so close to him. Robbie glanced through the door, which was left swinging wide open, at Luce racing across the lawn after the swirl of red curls. 

“Come on then,” James said, already halfway up the stairs. 

Robbie sighed and followed up to their room. Before he’d followed James outside he’d ran upstairs to toss the cards onto the bed. The top had slid off and now they spilled onto the messy duvet. Neither had thought to make the bed. 

“I think Andrea Redding is having an affair and I don’t think it was with Liam Harrison.” 

Robbie raised his eyebrows. “That is quite a turn from last night. Go on,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed while James paced back and forth in front of him. 

“When I went out for my jog this morning, I saw Andrea in the woods. She was talking to someone on the phone. She was saying how she couldn’t wait to kiss them, be in their bed again. Obviously not Liam Harrison.” 

“Considering he’s on a cold slab with Dr. Hobson, I would say not.” 

James smirked but continued. “And then before she got off the phone she said her own name.” 

“Her own name?” 

A memory flickered in the back of his head. He had read something…

“Yes, so I decided to ask Eve about it. Vaguely. Just about the name part. And she said it might be a reference to a book that Evan Wolfe referenced in a group session. _Call Me By Your Name_.” 

“Wait a minute, I’ve read that book.” Robbie blinked. “It’s gay, isn’t it?” 

James seemed to wince but moved quickly on. “I believe so, yes. When did you read it?” 

“Years now. My son told me I should read it. Val and I both did, used to read it to each other. From what I remember the writing was…something else.” Robbie could’ve sworn a tinge of pink that wasn’t there before bloomed on James’s cheeks. 

_“Introduced me to the reality of bisexuality,”_ Robbie thought but didn’t say aloud. 

“Do you think it means that Andrea is having an affair with another woman?” 

Robbie breathed deep. “I can’t imagine it is anyone here. She would’ve just met them on the grounds. Plus, if it is was a woman, it couldn’t be Luce or Eve.” 

“I doubt it would be Carla. Andrea never even seems to look in the Breckons direction.”

“Pity,” Robbie said. “Good folks.” 

James nodded and then froze, his entire body jerking back to Robbie. “Why would she call someone who is here?” 

Robbie blinked. “We’re discussing that.”

“She wouldn’t. But she might call someone she met here.” 

Robbie looked at James, wondering if he was just stupid or James was completely into left field. 

Then it dawned on him. 

“Camille Harrison.” 

“Bingo.”

Robbie leaned back. “Have Petersen run down that lead and see if they can match phone records to Andrea Redding. One of them could’ve killed Liam if he found out about their affair.” 

“Possibly. But we need to see if it is true first.” James was already reaching for his phone, emailing the details to Petersen. 

While Robbie waited, he leaned back and shuffled the cards back into the box. He didn’t even want to look at them right now. James let out a long breath, pocketing his phone again, and facing Robbie. He was buzzing with excited energy and Robbie knew he wanted to be the one to chase this lead. To question Camille. But they had to trust their colleagues to manage this one. 

They were clearly better served here, especially if one of the members of the Retreat was a murderer. 

“Do you have any interest in doing this tonight?” Robbie asked, holding up the offending black box to James. 

James swallowed, eyes narrowing on the box in Robbie’s hand and he suddenly wished he hadn’t brought it up. Was it horrible of him that he hoped James would say yes? That he would let his guard down a bit and let Robbie, at least, peek behind the walls? 

“If you would like to.” James leaned against the back of the sofa and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“That is a nonanswer, Hathaway,” Robbie said, feeling faintly annoyed by it. 

James sighed and looked out the window. “I just don’t want things to be awkward.”

“And these might make it so?” 

James frowned but didn’t say anything. He had that look. The one he got when he had a sure opinion, but wouldn’t share it unless asked. 

“What?” Robbie let the cards fall to his lap. “Say whatever it is your thinking. I can see an opinion forming on your face.” 

James blinked, surprised that Robbie had called him out on it even though they did this literally every day. “You can see what on my face?” 

“Your opinion or a thought. Every single time you have something to say, but don’t want to because you don’t think I’ll want to hear it, you get this furrow between your brows and your mouth pinches.” 

James looked offended. “My face does not do that.” 

Robbie shook his head and scoffed. “You need to look in the mirror.” 

“Oh, and you happen to study my face intently, Robert?” There was a sharp sarcasm layered on thick, so very James. 

Robbie stood up and went over to the side table where his water bottle from the other day sat. It was mostly so James couldn’t see his face. He was afraid it would betray the fact that yes, he often studied James’s face when he thought Robbie wasn’t looking. 

“Stop avoiding my original question,” Robbie snapped back, taking a swig of the water and trusting himself to turn back around. “And say what you mean to say.” 

“I don’t want you to do the bloody cards if the only reason is that we look good in our couple’s therapy session. I don’t want to do them if it's just a means of faking out the rest of the retreat couples. It isn’t their purpose and if that is your purpose, it would cheapen the meaning.” James’s voice was laced with a thread of anger. 

Robbie was unsure of what to say. To be honest, he hadn’t thought about that at all. “No, James, no. I do want to do well in this case, but fuck what anyone else thinks.” 

James’s thinking face smoothed and he took a deep breath, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “It would just be for…us.” 

Robbie considered for a moment, looking away from James. The anger had given way to the tender touch of insecurity. The idea of ‘us’ meant that they were completely entwined together in a way that made the word possible. ‘Us’ felt so much heavier in this context. 

“Yes, just us.” Robbie looked up at James and saw the crack of vulnerability on James’s face before he gave his usual awkward Hathaway smile that he gave when he was a little bit uncomfortable and thinking of what to say. 

“Well,” James pushed off the sofa and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I better collect the booze for tonight. Eve’s advice.” 

Robbie’s stomach dropped, but he laughed it off. 

_“A drunken man's words are a sober man's thoughts,”_ Robbie thought, trying to decide if he felt worried or excited by that fact.

\- - - 

The group session arrived quickly after lunch when Helen and Mark swept in to clear the platters of sandwiches and empty punch-glasses. Caroline led the couples into a large room that was probably a ballroom at some point but had been transformed into a space for group therapy. 

Everyone took a seat in the circle, Caroline sitting with her back to the windows, the light haloing her like she was an angel. 

James wondered if she was more of a devil. 

“How are we all feeling today?” Caroline asked, crossing one leg over the other, clicking her pen open. “I know it’s already been a bit of a wild morning.” 

All eyes, despite how they tried, glanced at Andrea. 

Luce had managed to calm her down and she’d brought her food when she hadn’t turned up to lunch. Carson was stiff next to her, refusing to look at his wife. A muscle in his jaw twitched at Caroline’s statement. Luce reached over to touch Andrea’s arm, but the other woman flinched away, her eyes locked on the floor. 

“Well, I for one, am just happy the sun has decided to show its face. What a dreary last few days,” Carla said, breaking the awkward silence. 

“Oh yes, some sunshine should surely make the mood brighter in here,” Jeff agreed, sharing a smile with Carla. 

Caroline glanced over her shoulder out the window, as if just now noticing the sun. “Quite right.” 

When no one said anything else, Caroline moved on. “So, to catch Robert and James up on our last session, we’ve been talking about deserving love. Whether it is romantic or platonic or just in general,” Caroline’s voice was one that James had heard enough at Oxford. Lecture-like, booming enough to fill every corner of the room but had a false hint of sincerity that lulled other people into thinking she might actually care about the answers. 

“So, where did we leave off last time?” Caroline asked, her voice light with the question as if she didn’t have a clue where they had left off. 

James knew she did. She was running this show, she would guide the discussion wherever she wanted it to go. His stomach clenched as he wondered how he was meant to participate. 

“Whether we are good people,” Eve said quietly. 

“Ah, yes, that’s right.” Caroline inclined her head to Eve in appreciation. “We all make mistakes, it is something we recognize in others, but sometimes refuse to acknowledge for ourselves. Does making mistakes mean you are a bad person?” 

“Depends on the mistake,” Robbie said suddenly. James glanced at him, wondering what was running through his mind. Was he thinking of the murderers, thieves, and rapists they put away? Was he thinking about the mistakes James had made in the past? Was he thinking of his own mistakes? 

“Depends on what?” Caroline prompted. 

“Well, it is truly impossible to know someone’s intentions when they perform an action. So, they say it is a ‘mistake’ to get out of perceived trouble because human beings don’t like being in trouble either. Maybe they do feel sorry for that mistake or they didn’t realize they were making a mistake.” 

“We aren’t really in a position to judge if someone is a bad person,” James added, glancing at Robbie, who nodded slightly. _“Only God can do that,”_ James thought but didn’t say. He wondered if Robbie was looking at him and seeing that furrow between his brows. 

“Sure, I agree with that. But what about protecting ourselves from people who might want to harm us? We can’t just assume everyone has our best interest at heart,” Evan said. 

James nodded. “We could, but I doubt that is an advisable way of living your life.”

“You guys are a bunch of cynics,” Carla muttered darkly. 

“Maybe we have reason to be,” Evan shot back. 

Caroline took hold of the reins of the conversation again. “What about the people we love and care about? Not strangers or even acquaintances. Do we expect our partner do have our best interests at heart?” 

“Our partner should have our relationship as a whole as their best interest,” Oscar said softly, looking up from where he was picking at the skin around his thumbs. “Partnership makes two people a single entity.” 

“The act of being in a partnership defies cynicism,” Jeff said, a little hotly. 

Andrea snorted and an uncomfortable silence fell. 

“Andrea?” Caroline prompted. 

She looked up, her eyes glistening but anger tight at the corners of her mouth. “If the partnership is falling apart, clearly one or both have their own self-interests at heart.” Her eyes cut to Carson. His jaw twitched again and his lip curled as he revved up to say something vicious.

Luce cut in before Carson could open his mouth. “Yes, but if the partnership is healthy then you care about someone more than yourself. But the question is, how do you mend an unhealthy relationship to make it a healthy one?” 

“Communication. Compromise,” Carla said. 

“Those things are necessary,” Caroline said before someone could say something more. James bit his lip, wanting to jump in. God, it felt like he was back in the seminary, debating Good vs. Evil, how to live a healthy life without self-interest even when everyone else might be living that way. 

It was distressingly familiar. 

“But does because someone might make mistakes and be an unhealthy partner, does that make them a bad person?” 

It was so quiet, James could’ve heard a pin drop onto the lush rug. 

“What does that have to do with a partnership? Some people will perceive you as a bad person, others as a good person. You can’t control what others see you as,” James snapped without even thinking. 

“You can still maintain being an individual despite being in a relationship. Unless you disagree with that?” Caroline was staring at him with her beady, dark eyes. She was enjoying this. The heated undertones that ran like a riptide in the conversation. 

“Being in a partnership, particularly a marriage, means that you lose some of your individuality. But your partner must also be willing to accept there are spheres of your world they don’t occupy in the same ways you do,” Robbie said. “Luce, would you say that you fit as comfortably in Eve’s investment banker’s crowd as she does?” 

Luce shook her head, dark curls bobbing. 

“Exactly. I’ll never feel totally a part of James’s rowing club. But a partnership is about realizing that you will always strive to be a part of the spheres that no one else in the world sees. The intimate side of yourself that no one in the world sees but your partner.” 

James looked at Robbie. His thumb was tracing the gold wedding ring on his left hand. He must’ve been thinking of Val and without thinking, he reached over and took Robbie’s hand. 

“Yes,” Carla said, nodding to Robbie. “And if your partner betrays that, then I would say they are a bad person to you.” 

“What if they see that intimate part of you and they think you’re a bad person?” Eve said. Her voice was cold, but James realized it was an attempt to hide her fear. He saw Luce wince beside her and Andrea’s chin jerked to Carson, her eyes boring holes into the side of his head. 

“Well, then fuck them.” James was surprised to hear Carson talk. His voice was neutral as if he’d just asked about a football match. 

“Can you elaborate, Carson?” Caroline asked, leaning forward in interest. 

“If they don’t like the “true” side of you, then they don’t deserve you.” He shrugged. “Simple as that.” 

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Oscar said, blinking owlishly at Carson. 

Carson’s eyes fell on Oscar and the other man seemed to shrink back under the weight of it. “If they can’t accept you and be willing to work with you.” His gaze slid to Andrea for a beat before they continued. “Then they don’t deserve your time of day. Time to become the people cynics believes we are and move the hell on, for your own self-interest.” 

Something told James that Carson and Andrea would not remain married for long. 

“How long would you give to someone to process what they don’t like and make a decision to help?” Evan asked. “Someone could make the mistake of rejecting your dark side but then realize they still care enough to be with you.” 

“Then we’re talking about forgiveness,” Andrea spat. “Some people feel incapable of forgiveness.” 

James had no doubt he knew who she was referring to. 

“Some people are,” Carson snapped back, glaring at her out of the corner of his eye. 

“So, what’s the solution?” Eve said, rubbing her temples. “People are shit and we should work to be less shit?” 

“That’s one way to look at it,” James said. 

“And another way?” Jeff asked, turning to look at James more fully. 

“All these comments circles back around to Caroline’s first point, if mistakes make us bad people. The first step to healing is accepting that you’ve made mistakes and seeking forgiveness from others. Sometimes the most damage is done by yourself. Guilt can be ruining, so you must forgive yourself too. Perhaps that is what makes a good person.” 

Robbie squeezed his hand. 

“Empathy,” Luce murmured. “Not just for others, but yourself.” 

“Is forgiveness for yourself a solitary road?” Robbie asked and James felt the heat of the question. 

Yes, he was fully aware of how hypocritical he was being and Robbie knew it. 

“I don’t think so,” Eve said. “It can be, but since we’re all married, our partners can help with that.” 

Robbie squeezed his hand again and James felt his eyes on the side of his face. 

_“I know, I know. Easier said than done.”_ James thought, swallowing hard.

 _“What if I still believe I need to be punished?”_ James wanted to say. 

The room went silent and he looked up, realizing everyone was staring right at him. He realized he had said it out loud and every muscle in his body tensed, panic rising quickly to the surface. “Seeking forgiveness is about wanting to be forgiven. What if you don’t think you deserve it?” He added when no one spoke and the awkwardness threatened to swallow him whole. 

Still, no one said anything. Not even Caroline. 

“What if I am a bad person?” 

Eve cut through the sudden heaviness of their philosophical debate-turned reality with ease. “I can see why you were going to become a priest.” 

James snorted. “You can probably see why I didn’t.” 

“Beyond the obvious?” Evan said, gesturing to both James and Robbie. Chuckles rippled throughout the group. 

Oh right. Being gay. 

That was part of it. Closer than Evan even knew. 

“That raises the question again. Are we bad people?” 

Age-old question without a solid answer. 

James certainly knew men that had spent their entire life researching, pondering, and formulating an answer to it. 

James didn’t believe there was an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this chapter up yesterday but I felt drained from the previous one and didn't know how to fully articulate this section.
> 
> hopefully chapter 7 tomorrow because i have been most excited to write & post that one <3


	7. i am bound to you with a tie that we cannot break, with a night that we can't replace, I'm lost but found with you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the questions I used in this chapter are inspired by the youtube series {The And}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *chapter title from Bastille's "Another Place"*
> 
> I struggled with this chapter, but enjoy <3

Whiskey and vodka. 

They weren’t the fanciest quality of liquor James had ever had, but they would do the trick. 

“Seriously, we can’t just sit on the couch?” Robbie asked as James settled down on the plush rug in front of the coffee table. 

“No, same level. Plus it is easier to reach the vodka from here,” James said, the warm flicker from the fire on his back. He’d given Robbie the side toward the couch so he could at least lean back against it. The pleasant morning and afternoon had turned into a whirlwind of storms, icy rain lashing the window and making him quite glad he was not outside in it. 

Robbie groaned as he eased himself off the couch and onto the floor. “Curse you for being so damn young,” he muttered. 

“Thirty-something is not that young,” James said, mostly because he didn’t like to think of himself as so much younger than Robbie. He didn’t like to think of them as that different. 

Robbie rolled his eyes and poured himself a whiskey, leaning back against the couch. The black box sat on the cleared off the table in front of them. Foreboding and holding the questions that James didn’t really want to think about. “Shall we start?” 

“Want me to ask first?” James asked, reaching forward and pulling them out of their little case. They were smooth and slippery, sliding against each other. He put them down in front of both of them, a pile about the thickness of a 52 deck, but longer and without a decorated side. 

“Go ahead,” Robbie said into his liquor, tilting it back to drink it down. 

“How do you describe me to your friends and family?” James read, placing it down onto the table, face up. “Family, I guess. Do you even have any friends that don’t already know me?” 

Robbie looked offended for a moment, but breathed deep and pondered the question. “A snarky, sarcastic, well-educated man, who I find utterly amusing and frustrating at the same time.” 

“That’s what your children know of me?” 

Robbie wondered what they would think of James. “I’ve also talked about how you are incredibly compassionate and hardworking. Intellectual and almost snobbish in that way, but also empathetic toward those who we deal with on cases.” 

James blinked, he looked a bit surprised. “Empathetic?” 

“Yeah, not toward actual suspects who you think might killers, but the grieving victims.” 

James had never been really called empathetic before. Usually arrogant, standoffish, aloof, giving the appearance that he didn’t care. He bit his lip, unsure of how to respond to such a compliment that went against what he usually thought others thought of him. 

Robbie picked up a card, clearly done with answering that question. “What are you hesitant to tell me?” 

“Really? This feels rigged, your question was much easier,” James leaned forward, his mouth dry and his heart rate speeding up. 

“It’s what it says.” Robbie turned it around and James squinted at it. That was what was on the card. 

James sighed and Robbie put the card down on top of the first one, quietly waiting. 

James wondered what he should say. What he could say? A million things he’d wanted to talk to Robbie about floated through his head. He took a deep breath and decided just to bite the bullet. “I think I’m queer.”

The words felt foreign on his tongue. He’d thought them so many times, wondered about them, and let them run rampant around his head for sleepless nights. Saying it out loud felt real and concrete, like he was now stuck to the word, unlike its nebulous form in his head.

“Mmm?” Robbie hummed, encouraging James to go on. 

He sighed. “I’m unsure of where I would fall on the spectrum. I don’t think gay fits, because I’ve been attracted to women, but I don’t think bisexual fits either. It doesn’t feel right.” He shook his head. “I don’t like labels, but saying I’m not straight feels noncommittal.” 

When he looked up, Robbie seemed to be holding his breath, as if James had just slapped him. 

Fear and panic flooded James’s body and he stilled, waiting for Robbie to start yelling or make a face or even worse, had the pitying look on his face as if he had any idea what it was like for James to even utter the words. 

Instead, Robbie nodded. “I get it.” 

“What?” 

That was not what James was expecting. 

“I think bisexual is the label that fits me the best, but it took a while to get there. When I grew up it was only homosexual and a sinner or heterosexual and an angel. Didn’t even realize I could occupy a space between the two.” Robbie shrugged and took another sip of the whiskey, only a little bit left when he put it down. 

“I didn’t know how it would make you feel, that’s why I didn’t tell you.” 

“Granted I didn’t really ask in the best way, now did I?” Robbie asked with raised brows. “Because I asked if you were gay, I couldn’t give you a definition, and even then, you don’t seem to fit into a box that society prepackaged for you.” 

Relief, sweet relief flooded through James. It was like cool water on a hot day. “Yes, exactly. I didn’t feel like I could explain it, I don’t even know if I can now.” 

“And that’s alright, James. I don’t need to fully understand your sexual orientation to support and care for you. I just want to be there,” Robbie said softly and when James met his eyes, they were warm and gentle, and not pitying at all. 

“Thank you,” James said with a heavy exhale. His chest felt looser than it had in months, maybe even years. He reached forward and poured himself a shot of vodka. For celebration and to help the rest of the knots in his chest loosen up and come free. 

He swallowed it fast and winced, trying to keep his face from screwing up at the harsh bite. He picked up the next question and snorted. “What do you remember from the first time we met?” 

Robbie laughed and shook his head. “Oh boy, these questions are trying to get me in trouble.” 

“In trouble? That bad, huh?” 

Robbie looked up at the ceiling, rolling his glass between his palms. “I remember thinking how odd it was that someone was there at the airport to pick me up. I remember that silly sign and I thought it was quite sweet, especially when I found out you were not a taxi service.” 

James snorted. 

“I remember how awkward you were and how hard you tried to make me feel comfortable or whatever. I was in a bad mood. I hadn’t slept in hours, I was missing my wife and everything I saw reminded me of her.” Robbie frowned and took the last sip of his whiskey before pouring himself another. 

“What a weird case that was. Somehow it mirrored Hamlet and yet turned out to be about math, who would’ve thought,” James said, shaking his head. That was the beginning of their partnership. Beginning of late nights, pints of beer, weird suspects, and plenty of interesting conversations. He reached out and took the whiskey from Robbie’s side and poured himself one. 

“You trying to get drunk fast?” 

“Aren’t you?” James asked. The whiskey went down smoother than the vodka and he found he could down more of it faster than the vodka. 

Robbie rolled his eyes. “I would like to be coherent tomorrow.”

“And tonight?” James asked, looking up at Robbie from under his lashes. 

“I would like to remember your answers,” he said softly. “My turn.” 

Robbie grabbed a card and his eyes widened. He rolled his lips together, licking them, and tried to formulate the sentence several times, but nothing really came out. 

“What is it?” James asked, reaching out for the card, but Robbie snatched it away. 

“I think, maybe we should skip it.” 

“Well, now I’m curious,” James said. The alcohol was beginning to make the world around the edges fuzzy. He never had a great tolerance for hard liquor. 

“What is your favorite place to be touched by me?” Robbie did not look up as he carefully put the card down. 

Well, fuck. 

James looked down at the table and the glass between his fingers, just so he didn’t have to look at Robbie. He thought of all the places Robbie could touch him. He remembered the feeling of his calloused palm in his own and imagined it running down his back, thumbs sweeping over his shoulder blades and up to his neck. Robbie’s tongue dipping into the spot between his hips just above his groin, across the dimples at the small of his back, squeeze his thighs until bruises formed in the shape of Robbie’s fingerprints, his fingers spreading - 

James swallowed and tried to think of anything _but those things_. He was already halfway to hard and he was thankful that was hidden by the table. It was hard to keep those thoughts out of his head when the alcohol was making him fuzzy and it easier for that kind of inappropriate thinking to slip in. 

His cheeks were warm and when he looked up and met Robbie’s gaze, he wondered how much showed on his face. 

God, he wanted nothing more than for Robbie to touch him. Touch him everywhere, not just a shoulder or his hand or the corner of his mouth. 

He couldn’t help the shiver that traveled up his spine at the memory of Robbie looking up at him, looking at his lips as he reached up and brushed his thumb against the corner of James’s mouth. He’d shivered then and he couldn’t even imagine what it would be like for Robbie to _actually touch him_. 

“James?” Robbie said. 

James realized he’d just kind of been staring into space and hadn’t given an answer yet. “I think I drank too much already,” he said instead, looking down at his cup. 

Robbie drained the last of his third whiskey and set it down a little hard on the table. It clinked and it was loud enough that James winced and looked up at Robbie. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I’m making the face again, aren’t I?” James whispered, knowing that he couldn’t really hide anything from Robbie. 

Robbie nodded, lower lip caught in his teeth. 

“I think I need to revise what I said for the hesitation question,” James murmured. 

Robbie inhaled sharply and raised his brows. “Oh?”

“Just for the record,” James murmured, running his fingers across the coffee table. “I knew doing this would possibly make this awkward.” He swallowed hard. “Do you want me to answer honestly and possibly make it awkward or do you want to move on and not make it potentially awkward?” 

Robbie was quiet, staring at James as if trying to read his mind before he answered. “Tell me,” he whispered. 

“I am very attracted to you, Robert Lewis,” James whispered and surprise flickered across Robbie’s face as if he couldn’t believe it. Was it really so hard? Robbie was so handsome, who wouldn’t want him? 

“Attracted to me?” There was a touch of insecurity in Robbie’s voice along with the shock. 

James bit his lip and slowly nodded. “Yes.” 

Robbie looked out the window and took a few deep breaths. For a moment, James had felt a surge of triumphant glee that he had shocked Robbie, but the longer he was quiet, the more that glee soured into anxiety and fear. 

He wanted to backtrack, but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth and it couldn’t form around the words. 

“Me? What the hell do you see in a guy like me?” Robbie whispered. 

“What do you mean a guy like you?” The arrogant streak from the alcohol came back. “You mean you really don’t see how unbelievably sexy you are? Not only do I love how kind, funny, ridiculously Northern at times, and brilliant you are, but I also-,” James stuttered to a stop, realizing he was about to say something that would’ve been quite embarrassing and ridiculous if Robbie did not feel the same way. 

“You also what?” Robbie’s eyes were dark. 

The room was too hot, his chest felt constricted, and a flush was certainly crawling up his face now, turning him bright red. James shook his head, looking down at the table. He didn’t want to reveal what images flashed through his head if Robbie wasn’t going to give him a reason to other than an ego booster. 

“James,” Robbie’s voice was rough and low. “Do you really feel that way?” 

James looked up again. He felt like he needed to pant that’s how out of breath he felt. “Yes.” 

“Can I admit something, then?” Robbie murmured.

James nodded without looking up. Suddenly Robbie’s fingers were on his chin, tilting it up so he was forced to look at Robbie and he was leaning in so close that James’s eyes flickered down to his lips. 

“I am _very_ attracted to you, James Hathaway,” Robbie murmured and James met his gaze. It was scrutinizing, burning, like for the first time Robbie was showing James how much he wanted him in a carnal and physical way. James couldn’t look away, just tried to breathe normally, but his heart had other ideas as it pounded against his ribs. “Can I kiss you?” Robbie asked, his thumb brushing against the corner of his mouth again, just like it had that morning. James shivered at the light touch. 

“I don’t know, can you?” He breathed with a cheeky smirk. 

Robbie rolled his eyes, but his thumb brushed against the corner of his mouth, seemingly fascinated by how it made James shiver even if he didn’t really want to. Robbie seemed content to just study James’s face, but he couldn’t resist, he closed the gap between them and sealed their lips together. 

Getting the angle just right, especially when James was sat on the floor and Robbie was leaning over the table made the kiss less than ideal, but Robbie kissed like he ran investigations, thorough and without any hesitation. 

James closed his eyes and sank deeper into it, his free hand coming up to grab at the collar of Robbie’s sweater, trying to get him closer. He felt Robbie’s laugh against his lips and when he pulled away, James chased after his lips. 

“I don’t think kissing over top a coffee table is good for my back,” Robbie said, amused even as he winced and rubbed his back. 

“Perhaps not,” James murmured, but got up onto his knees and shoved the table to the side. “Is that better?” He asked as he crawled over the rug to position himself between Robbie’s legs. Before he could say anything James was kissing him again, unable to get over how nice it felt to finally do this, finally kiss the man he’d been falling in love with for the past couple years. 

One of Robbie’s hands came to press against the small of his back while the other one clasped around the back of his neck, pressing him closer. James curled his arms around Robbie’s neck, sinking further into him. 

“So much better,” Robbie whispered, pulling away a bit to press a kiss against the scar on the side of James’s chin, to his jaw, moving down to his throat. James tilted his head back, giving Robbie more room to press soft kisses to his skin. 

“So.” Kiss. “Much.” Kiss. “Better.” Kiss with a little nip that brought made James whine in a way he was sure he’d never done before. 

When he looked down at Robbie he had to pause to just breathe. “You okay?” Robbie asked and James nodded. 

“Yeah, I think I just got drunk a little fast.” The pleasant buzz of alcohol had swooped a little too close to swirled dizziness for his taste, alongside kissing Robbie he was thoroughly lightheaded. His hand had moved from James’s face to his shoulder, keeping him steady, while the hand on his back drew long, looping swirls up and down. James wondered how good it would feel without his sweatshirt in the way. 

James closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. It was so grounding and warm, a little reminder that Robbie was close and touching him. He had missed having that, soothing touches that came with physical interaction. 

Well, physical interaction beyond what friends usually did. 

James licked his lips. “How long have you felt like this?” 

“Like what?” Robbie asked, blinking as if he had been drawn out of deep thought. 

James swallowed harshly, bit the inside of his cheek, but still swayed as another wave of dizziness crashed over him. Not entirely unpleasant, but he was certainly glad he was not standing. “Attracted to me,” James said, waving his hand in the air as a reference to their previous conversation. 

Robbie chuckled and the hand on James’s shoulder tightened and he realized he was lilting the other direction. Instead, he put his hands on Robbie’s thighs to balance himself and he did not miss the lightning strike of arousal and lust that covered his face when he did so. 

James smiled, feeling a bit devilish and ran his hands up a little further to frame either side of Robbie’s groin.

Taking a breath to compose himself, Robbie said, “I’ve been attracted to you since I met you, but I think I realized on the Rattenbury case. The one right when Fiona was leaving.” 

James blinked. “That long? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Robbie looked sheepish and shy. “I didn’t think you felt the same.” 

James leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “I was afraid of rejection and humiliation, so I understand.” 

“We’ve been fools, haven’t we?” Robbie whispered, the hand on James’s shoulder returning to the side of his face as he guided James into a tender kiss. 

James sighed and deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue over Robbie’s mouth. He tasted like whiskey which was surprisingly pleasant. He pulled back, eventually, to just press his forehead against Robbie’s shoulder and feel him there, near him, touching him, keeping him grounded and solid. 

“I want,” he mumbled, but he never finished the sentence and he’s sure that Robbie had no idea what he’s just said. 

But Robbie pressed his lips to the shell of James’s ear and whispered, “Let me hold you, please.” 

And James wrapped his arms around Robbie’s waist and let himself slump, let the weight of trying to be the aloof, perfect James Hathaway fall apart. Robbie’s hands are all over his back, rubbing up and down, holding him close and dear, as if he could keep James from falling apart. 

He was always such a sentimental drunk and now he is glad that Robbie can’t see the fact that tears are welling up again. He can’t even really believe that earlier that morning he had been grilled by Caroline Livingston about his trauma, but it was all coming back up again, rising to the surface like a surging tide. 

But this time, Robbie held him close and kept him grounded in the present, in reality, in his body rather than feeling compressed into the thin version of himself that came with years and years of self-hatred, guilt, and anger. 

James didn’t know how long they sat like that, curled together, but eventually, James’s back and legs began to protest at the awkward angle they were at and he carefully pulled himself away. Robbie let him, but his hands just moved from his back to his waist. 

“Sorry, my legs are aching.” 

Robbie chuckled. “Same for my back. Can we move to the couch now?” 

James rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine.” He pushed to his feet and held out his hand for Robbie and helped pull him off the floor. James took a deep breath, the tipsy feeling still there, making him a little off-balanced, but not enough that he felt like he was about to fall over. 

Now that he felt a little clearer, he didn’t know how to proceed. Robbie was still a senior officer and the power imbalance at work collided with police ethics and James was suddenly very aware of that. Here at the marriage retreat, they were on somewhat equal footing, neither of them really identifying with their ranks since they were supposed to be “normal people”. 

“Thoughts?” Robbie asked and James blinked, coming back to the room and Robbie.

“Just about what comes next. What this mean?” James pointed between the two of them. 

Robbie settled down onto the couch and James curled up on the other side, turned to face Robbie. “Well, what do you want this to mean? Are you looking for a relationship?” 

James studied Robbie’s face. He was sincere, but there was something guarded about him. “Yes,” James said after a moment. “I mean, I would like to try a relationship with you. Have wanted it for a while.” 

“Well, I mean, we’ve been kind of dating for a while now, considering how often we hang out and eat dinner and spend time at each other's flats.” 

“I don’t think that was an accident,” he murmured. 

“Have you ever been with a man?” James asked without thinking and nearly backtracked with a _“Nevermind, not my business.”_ But it was, sort of, it was if they were going to have a “dating” relationship. 

Robbie’s face flushed and he nodded. “Mostly just fooling around when I was a youth. And one serious relationship, yes. When I was away, about two years after Val died.” His smile turned to a smirk. “So I don’t think you have to worry about me knowing what I’m doing,” he said, eyes flickering across James’s face and then down his body. 

Now it was James’s turn to feel heat flow over his body and arousal to coil low in his belly. 

“What about you? I know you said you’d kissed Will, but,” Robbie trailed off and James swallowed. 

He knew it would come up eventually. He took in a deep breath and despite how the anxiety tried to keep his tongue from forming the words, he forced them out anyway. “I knew Will when I was a teenager and we were both trying to figure out our sexualities. Then, we kind of fell apart because of my own Catholic guilt.” He swallowed. “No, well, my mother found out that I had kissed Will and she was so angry. Now that I think back on it, I think she was more afraid. Afraid of what others would think, what my father would think, afraid of what they would think of her.” 

James paused and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “So, I decided that I wouldn’t let that part of me become what the world saw from me. I went into theology, tried to understand my faith and where I stood in the plan of God,” James said. He leaned back against the pillow and shook his head. “I believe so firmly that I had beaten the gay part of myself, that I wasn’t.” 

“That’s why you told Will what you did?” Robbie’s voice was soft, not judgmental, or prodding. Regardless, hot shame burned in his throat, and James nodded. 

“I got close to one of the other students and I realized that I hadn’t gotten rid of my queerness, I had just suppressed it.” 

“What did you do?” Robbie asked.

James looked at Robbie. His sincere and genuine Robbie. “I went home. I spoke to the priest at my family’s church. Didn’t go into specifics, but he just told me, ‘If God had wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise.’” James shook his head and looked down. 

“Who said that?”

“Goethe. The priest told me that he was a freethinker who believed that one could be inwardly Christian without following any of the Christian churches. Famously condemned them for being less Christ-like.” 

“Sounds like we’ve gotten along,” Robbie murmured and James smiled. 

“So I left. I decided to actually help people, to atone for the wrongs I’d done.” 

“And being a surgeon was too much work?” Robbie joked and James found himself laughing despite himself. 

“Yes, because being a copper definitely has fewer hours,” James said sarcastically. 

Robbie rolled his eyes. 

“So,” James said circling back to the question. “I haven’t slept with anyone in quite a while and only one guy when I was eighteen or nineteen.” He thought about Jonjo and what seeing him had brought back. 

“What about the boy you liked in the seminary?” Robbie asked. 

“Didn’t tell him. I didn’t know if he liked guys in the same way I did and I didn’t really talk to him after I left. More cowardice.” 

Robbie surprised him by reaching out and grabbing his wrist. “James, it isn’t cowardice. You were afraid and never really learned to accept yourself. Have you even learned to accept yourself?” 

“All my acceptance was broken the moment we found Will with a bullet in his head,” James whispered, closing his eyes tight against the memory of him on the ground, gore and blood pooling behind him. 

“It’s okay,” Robbie whispered, his thumb brushing against his knuckles and James felt the sofa shift as he drew himself closer. 

James looked up and just tried to breathe. _In. Out. In. Out._

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” James asked. “I think I’ve thought about it enough for one day.”

“’Course,” Robbie said and that was one bit of a painful conversation over. “Do you want to do more of the cards or go to bed?” 

James looked at the coffee table knocked to the side, the cards having slipped all over the table. He didn’t really want to sleep, didn’t know if he could sleep for another few hours. 

“One more each?” He asked gesturing to the table. Robbie smiled and grabbed two random ones, handing one to James and laying the other in his lap. 

“Your turn,” Robbie said, gesturing to him. 

James flipped his card over. “When do you feel closest to me?” 

Robbie’s mouth opened a bit as he thought, brows coming together as he formulated his answer. “I’d say after we finish a rough or hard case. When we go to the pub to grab a pint or get takeaway and just sit on one of our couches and relax. When we have a moment of understanding for each other, I think that would be it.” 

James smiled and it was so sincerely sweet that he felt his heart melt inside his chest. He wondered if this was what love felt like. “What does yours say?” James prompted and Robbie smiled before flipping it over. 

His eyes widened a bit and James nudged his side with his knee. 

Robbie’s face burned a bright red as he read, “What is a sexual fantasy or fetish you have yet to share with me?” 

James’s stomach flipped and that coil of arousal shot through his lower stomach again. Unmistakable and undeniable. He smiled slowly and leaned forward. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He whispered, face millimeters from Robbie’s before he closed the minimal distance and sealed their lips together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was unsure if I wanted to post this or scrap it and rewrite it in a different way. I don't know how I feel about the way this is written, what is covered, and how it changes the story.   
> In the end, I decided to post it the way I originally wrote it because I felt like it was helpful for me as I work through some of my own issues which is why I write. 
> 
> also, I have a little bit more sexy stuff that comes after this chapter as a chapter 7.5 that will be posted separately. so if you'd like to read that you can, but it's not necessary for the rest of this story.

**Author's Note:**

> *updates will be in as I write the next chapters*  
> *tags will be updated as I write the chapters*


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